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HARD
TO EXPLAIN BLUES
Here with the crackling
of wood severing my spine;
I am not alone---
low-hanging rooftops
of put-to-rest
memories drape above me;
As I cling to the
notes
of jazz and blues
soothing the airways,
deicing the mist
clouding the air;
then becoming tears---
it is safe though.
nobodys looking;
though I am not alone;
but, no one is here;
but the chimneys of
put-to-dusk
fireplaces that sneak
reminiscences of memories that
blazed aside me;
but dwindled abruptly;
without reason;
Left cold, I changed
costumes
into the ever-changing note within
the simplest jazz
set,
yet, the most hard to explain blues;
tooled on the most
easily
recognizable instrument-gone-off key;
love.
As I follow the path
the music sheets
Lead from the lyrics written by
the most confused hearts, stuck in the
simplest silences
avoidance,
deceit, & retractions
Unlocked safety---
Now falls tears.
nobodys looking;
though I am not alone;
even though, no one is here;
but the degrees of
winters
first blast that sneaks its
fallen heat into the images
of turned-to-brown greenery
to create an image
of scenery
of a man listening to jazz and blues;
not alone though---
wrapped in the emptiest
arms,
that were once yours.
Copyright © 2006
By MARK ANTHONY THOMAS
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