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January 04, 2006
La Garua
someone keeps moving the hands
of the clock on the patio
still, they don't appear to be
going anywhere
and in the distance I can hear
a bird of prey
menacing the airwaves with a hunger
that I cannot relay
in words
or relate to
in rhyme
It seems everyone thinks
my songs
are like a razor at my throat
but sorrow and I
have a great many ways
of deluding
one another
to achieve our own
seperate ends
a division of the songwriter
from the singer
achieves a partnership
la garua
drudges along the waterfront
while children stash seaweed
in potato sacks
and bunnies darken their hides
in observatude
the clamor of the ice cream bell
spilling down from the promenade
and frisbees
kicking sand onto my sarong
these things are reality
all the dark corners,
the film noirs
that I show
to my guests
both near and far
are just a way of sustaining
the gap
Posted by Drexler at January 4, 2006 11:09 AM