Monday, October 26, 2009

The Blue Glow

From the couch
I can hear the cat drinking out of the toilet
The ceramic reverb of a tiny room
A mosquito feeds on my right hand
The fleshy part just below the thumb
I allow this

The buried ringing in my ears
From too many cymbals
And one ballsy Fender Deluxe
Is a tenacious lover spurned
Relentless and pleading
Try as I might to deny her
She always finds a way back in

I check the blue glow for a third time
Knowing full well I should be creating
But instead seeking
Vanity is a false stroke
Flattery a cold mouth

I have the tools
To dismantle almost anything
I have the ability
And the care
To repair the deepest crack
I try
My best
To utilize my faith
To administer a salve of compassion


Saturday, October 3, 2009

Today I found myself on the side of a barren, two-lane highway, stamping out a grassfire in the rain. The result of a tossed cigarette I'm sure, but odd that it would catch in such wet conditions. I felt almost guilty for extinguishing it. It must have struggled like hell to burn.