Poems

Current Listening:
Do Henley: “The Last Worthless Evening”
Every night it’s the same old crowd

in smokey rooms

You catch a faint glimpse of love sometimes

But it never blooms

I’ve been around this block a time or two

And I’ve made some big mistakes

But girl I promise you, I promise you

This is the last worthless evening

That you’ll have to spend

Just gimme a chance

To show you how to love again

This is the last worthless evening

that you’ll have to spend

‘Cause it won’t be long

‘Till your little heart is on the mend

Bob Dylan Biography

Bob Dylan biography. Between

pages 23 & 24:

a receipt.

Due back May 3, 2001.

on the back, a ballpoint

scrawl: “Don’t forget—”

the slip is ripped, what was not

to be forgot

is.

On The Table in the Spotlight

They slew the beast in a glen

Then prepared it for the feast.

First they ripped of the bird’s limbs

Then they pucked clean the carass,

Cooke, cut, and served up the beast.

Feasters, slobs, vicious, minds dim,

Gather ‘round the table en masse.

These shifty, ravenous men

Leave nothing but hunks of skin,

Bare bones, cracked plates, and stained glass.

They lean back, beliies gorged. When

Full, all left of the deceased

Will be their shit, bones picked clean —

No clues to what it had been.

Playground

The sky is spinning slowly tonight

as my friends dance in the stars without music.

In the dark they have not a care; they

know that the recess bell will not ring.

Danny rides the merry-go-round,

spinning with the moon. His hair flies

out in every direction, bouncing with the

wind. He fills his face with his lunatic grin.

Timmy is climbing the tree

growing next to the jungle gym. He races

an imaginary foe to the top and almost

loses his grip, one hand swinging in the

air wildly.

Courtney sits below him with her

Knees akimbo.

She plays

with her Troll dolls, oblivious to

the others around her and the peril above.

Mike leads a company of adventurers with

baseball bats for swords and gloves for shields

around the baseball diamond, which could

be an island, a spaceship, or nothing in particular.

I lean my head against the cold metal of the fence, smiling fondly.

My fingers are looped through its metal, stuck in a way.

I want to climb and join in but something holds me back behind the chain link.

Justin leads some other children — faceless now and

nameless with time — in a game of

tag. “One, two three… not it!”

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

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