somedays
I would take pills
and rumble like
great thunder
in the sky
on others
I would smoke weed
and streak
across the horizon
like
an electrified spiderweb
some nights
lonesome foolish bumlike
i’d sit and pass myself
a cheap bottle
of port
and crooked lines
of poetry
‘til the cops would nudge me
with a nightstick
HARD
“move on buddy,
this ain’t no YMCA”
and i’d roll up
on my floating mind
and stumble
into the dawn
crowing
before the rooster
-cock-a-doodle-i’m-a-fool-
other nights i’d
goof on juice
and dig
the brotherly wailing
of sax-y jazz
blowing me to heaven
and there would be
no reason to leave
but to sleep
and sleep could wait
at least until
the bottle drained
the last drop
of nectar
down the throat
then
I could follow
that sweet blow
to the cradle
of death of day
and sleep fatigued
‘til brother stirred
my blood to life
again
in these
new days
no weed
need be smoked
to see
the holy spirit
no wine
need be chugged
to follow
that dream
some days
my soul absorbs
life like jazz
-be-bop-biddily-biddily-tiddily-wop-
and bops to some
crazy horn blowing
wildly
strange how
I never knew me
when I would be
tooting my frutti
but now
I know me
under starry spotted
sky, wind blowing
soothing
like a cool sax
Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790