April 18, 2017
Walking, mostly neat in clockwork close meter,
Warmer ghosts from my former features;
All the roles, All the resume’,
Falling in line, Just the crew to rescue me.
Faded as sad old soldiers, parted.
(Vain fantasies say old glories stay guarded)
Again, always, They had heaved it all in a heavy chest.
Again, always, they had heaved in their chest
Taking it to heart & head.
I’ll call it for you my own VFW
hall. I have my own tall tales to tell,
We’ll share lies, & libations.
I’ll wear my mightier pen.
I’ll share sham wisdom wide open.
But first, false memories in verse.
& what’s worst, I’ll con, & confide open.
“I’m ready to go anywhere/ I’m ready for to fade/ Into my own parade”
—————-Dylan (the troubadour one), from “Mr. Tambourine Man”
“Every hero becomes a bore, at last.” -Ralph Waldo Emerson
. (5 yrs back)
June 9, 2013
I had slid much more
Across that little table’s surface
Than was on the chalkboard
Across, to the very pleasant
Atlantic City street psychic
Because, the very pleasant
Now spoken secrets
Rocked no boats, just as the line
You get from me