Hey guys, I was away in Marfa for my birthday, so it's been a while, but continuing my new series 'spies of the field,' here is the next poem. Also, the pictures I'll be posting for the remainder of the series are taken from Marfa and west Texas (and maybe a secret cave?!).
spies in the field: numbers racket
the girl with the blue skirt,
a ruffled imitation of cloud,
sings
a symphony as she drunkenly
gazes at the other guys in
shrewd business suits;
tell us, then,
exactly what we are, what
our make is, our
best day, our worst day,
a tragedy, and a
triumph.
the girl removes the glasses from
her face and now becomes more beautiful.
beautiful women dance around
the night, but sometimes
they hide in apartments, under
blankets, near cat tails,
in refrigerator light,
and
always bound by an old sweater,
a new dress, some
pagan shoes, or a guffy old
typewriter.
the numbers are click clacking
around the lick
slick signs of this town;
get out now, they are trying to tell us,
but spies and deception are
brothers.
we remain undone.
And check out bohococo.blogspot.com, and dumbsville.blogspot.com, too for other Marfa/west Texas related postings.
No comments:
Post a Comment