Tuesday, March 17, 2009

t. kilgore splake

cojones time

“sun light here i am”

charles bukowski

muse long gone

no blank page contests

past distant memories

destiny in hand

hot chivas rush

bardic blood boiling

brain skull cavity

distant gray fog

dull hum hum humming

.357 ticket to ride

spared nursing home

score tied

overtime eternity

compulsive voyeur

talking only to talk

never understanding

emptiness of spoken word

drying alone on hospital gurney

helpless afraid

his song unwritten

winter diary

too late

to tell my story

artistic essence fading

shadow dancing

across new borders

something more intense


sweet dreams

only white guy

ghetto hoops team

big city metro

jukes and dekes

pulling up

skyin’ high

top of the key

soft fade away j

rippling chain net

street cred

waking from darkness

tortured eternity

writer’s black brain death

skull cavity empty

first dawn

streaking far horizon

steady light snow

turning paris white

rue montparnasse

lover’s footsteps

vanishing in

early morning light

tru gen

fancy workout threads

logging exercise miles

video with jake

air conditioned

knotty pine

bulls in hot pursuit

wanabe lady brett

cohn flynn

on pamplona holiday

bloody shit stink

wine soaked sweat

wild ass frenzy

racing toward


black side

time to go home

midnight quiet

streetlight blinking below

seventh story window

hospital cardiac unit

saline iv solution

staccato rippling echo

distant owl calling

winter coming

mad poet passing

waking from blackout

night light shadows

scattered jelly glasses

empty thunderbird deliriums

gone gone gone

“last train to clarksville”

racing through the station

chest throbbing

jackhammer heart pains

stomach acid boiling

oxygen tank hissss

needing new diaper

distant graying poet

nurse stealing meds

no longer feeling welcome

“shit and git”

vanished youthful memories

boy doing things

missing sweet wet kisses

no more nights together

black magnum solution

hole behind his ear

left this morning

never coming home

last clarksville train

washing down aspirins

warm blue ribbon suds

damp gray first dawn

jerry lee’s cassettes silent

black terminal loneliness

yesterday wife saying

“things got to change”

squeeze the trigger

gain methodist salvation

promised better life


Jim Chandler said...

Always good to read the old trout dancing bard of the UP.

Fred Abbey said...

Thanks, Jim, I think so too.