—STANDING ON THE EDGE OF THE WORLD AND IT’S A PRETTY SHORT FALL

 

 

Some Kind of Blue

 

Stevie Nicks won’t

stop barking

as the swallows

swarm my window

frantic for a nest

I don’t have

today the lake

is a hollow jug

bone dry and down

on its fortune

out of step

with the times

some kind of blue

Miles might say

blowing sad magic

from the grave

hitting the last brass

keys on a

tapestry of remorse

while the wind twists

like a corkscrew

through my spine