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tyler-jackson-kingPoems
This is a recurring dream, it slips into my veins on the best and worst nights warm and vibrating lik blue jazz: I am sitting in a tunnel, huddled scared and staring, open-- into the hazel eyes of Sarah the wandering angel of San Jose, the cool Sunflower in my brain as Peter Sarstedt fills the blue-bricked walls with, "Where do you go to, My Lovely?" Shaking my teeth and ribs like old blank dice, lovely accordion sobs- What vibrations! Echoes and blue memories running into the dark. I hear you Peter, She hears you I must tell you that-- and when I wake all that's left are the echoes of my accordion heart and the sounds of traffic over the plucking of red chords in street.
0
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
La Douleur Exquise
This is a recurring dream, it slips into my veins on the best and worst nights warm and vibrating lik blue jazz: I am sitting in a tunnel, huddled scared and staring, open-- into the hazel eyes of Sarah the wandering angel of San Jose, the cool Sunflower in my brain as Peter Sarstedt fills the blue-bricked walls with, "Where do you go to, My Lovely?" Shaking my teeth and ribs like old blank dice, lovely accordion sobs- What vibrations! Echoes and blue memories running into the dark. I hear you Peter, She hears you I must tell you that-- and when I wake all that's left are the echoes of my accordion heart and the sounds of traffic over the plucking of red chords in street.
Written by
tyler-jackson-king
American
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:25 PM UTC
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