She said my poems had emotion in them
as if they might have syphilis.
One afternoon at a bus stop in Ruston, Louisiana we picked up a single passenger, a huge man in a dirty plaid shirt, grease-stained khakis, and unlaced boots covered in mud.
the poets, tethered to each other
in the popular mind as if we were one
big family and we are
Well, my friends are gone and my hair is grey
I ache in the places where I used to play
And I’m crazy for love but I’m not comin’ on
I’m just payin’ my rent every day in the Tower of Song
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Naked you were luminous and all my cells photographed you, stayed with me all these years. But there was a shadow to that beauty. When we are older we acquire … Continue reading
A moving song from Everest’s album “Love, War, and the Ghost of Whitey Ford.”