Stalled (in your writing hovel)
Stalled (in your writing hovel)
When you stall, get up and walk
on a spinning lump of silica and iron.
Picture it through ruined oak floorboards,
hurtling through black.
Write poems in 1918 smoke clearings,
filthy craftsman hovels, magnetic myths.
Record my eyes, gunmetal microphone.
Stop the tape at the punchline.
on a spinning lump of silica and iron.
Picture it through ruined oak floorboards,
hurtling through black.
Write poems in 1918 smoke clearings,
filthy craftsman hovels, magnetic myths.
Record my eyes, gunmetal microphone.
Stop the tape at the punchline.
Last edited by Nazz on August 22nd, 2008, 7:34 pm, edited 1 time in total.
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I love 1918 smoke clearings - the puff of rifles, I love General George Armstrong Custer's 7th Cavalry Lost Air Wing! The sound of biplanes circling out of sight above the clouds of my dreams...the spent cartridges found by a team from the History Channel...kerosene campers low dosing on Sitting Bull's prairie grass!...
Doll, you may have found a place of rest but I'm still on the trail.
- stilltrucking
- Posts: 20646
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
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