Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

haunted through the signal
of a thousand novel approaches

I could see the howling wind in your word
your meaning arrives on the mystic coffee table

down a thousand halls where the Buddha sun melts
I could meditate by a definition that all is suffering
I could reach out and almost touch your lost words

you suffer for your art, i could see your lit tears
in the street lamps as you float in the city lights
of the drunken saints marching in midnight

in the jazz funeral dawn, we recited our poems
and licked the candy walls like wet windows of eyes
your poet soul wandering through the fog of Chinese
mirrors, moon hotel down Kerouac alley into infinity

the sky scrapers scraping shit off the shoes of the sky
and the poets below doing a little rain dance on the street

Time spent in the city grit ,the poets vision shared. I left home at fourteen and hit the road , spent some time in L.A.and Denver, old Mobile in Alabama. Been years ago now .The poem brought back memories of walking the streets just looking , exploring the mind all night , soaking up something. I think this is part of the poet life for many of us .Some one said on here that they believed every one is a poet, this well may be true , as I say every one can play music ,but until they allow the music to be made or the poem to be written I think it is only in the potential that they "are". I have a respect for the difference between kinetic and potential energy ,this is kinetic .

I appreciate your thoughtful and intelligent musings on the poetic life, all my poems are another step further into the poetic journey of my life as a .poet. I don't always know what will come out, and as I stated elsewhere on studio 8 it is all experimental and a work in progress, everything is interchangeable, shifting landscapes of the mind.I do feel like I am describing what it was like in my early days when I was meeting other poets and reading everything I could find of the writers/poets that I stumbled upon or was drawn to.