FEEDBACK

feedback4The ringing in your ears

masks the sound of footsteps,

dust kicked up, cat-hair

tumbleweeds filling the corners

of your paper-cluttered

room, and under your thumbs

a blues you don’t recognize,

some poetry-buddy’s jazz

blossoming, possibly, trying

to write itself into or away

from you, bitterly addictive

as coffee, it tantalizes

that terribly sweet dream

of a panting striptease,

the bite and thrust gnawing

on a Janis Joplin wannabe

crawling across the stage floor

of your mind, a microphone

pressed to bleeding lips

crooning the broken-voiced

another chance at this, this

wasteland, this lack of understanding,

these passages of promise and loss,

another go at the soul

buzzing an amplified noise

crackling off blank pages

you’ve creased, fingered,

dog-eared and closed . . . annoyed

you need pliers to operate

the volume control—but still,

static dominates the song.

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One Response to FEEDBACK

  1. Everyone loves it whenever people get together and share ideas. Great site, continue the good work!

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