This is for
the twelve string
who makes
my ears ring.
I loved you
the moment
I heard your compressed
sheets of church bells
pealing from
grey grill cloth
across the years,
across the room,
under illuminated
manuscript curtains
from 1965
to a dull decade
decayed.
Which one?
Four or five?
"I gotta know, babe
all about my fortune
down along my
restless palm..."
You still root me
to the spot and still,
watching the chimes
gurgle and wink
down winding
streams of mercury
in permanent,
warm smiling
sun.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
360/12 Bells Of Rhymney
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4 comments:
Very, very beautiful. Oh, maybe that sentiment is too girly? I recall reading something about 'analytical comments' earlier.
So... Damn fine, man! Damn fine!
Brought to you by today's captcha: ORA GAB
yes, that makes sense now donnit?
Beautiful is good. The lager and muscle crowd get hinkie with it but dandies such as meself don't wilt in front of it.
I thought this was also beautiful, and I'm no girl anymore, oh no.
Man either.
Maybe I'm a dandy, too? Or can women be dandies?
Hi SusuP! All my friends are dandy and you are my friend. That was easy, weren't it?
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