Three Blues Poems

11:05pm Half Blues

half belly glass on the table
bird books on the side
a gush of motorcar out
on the street makes it
hot, and the cyclists
have it down. They hiss
on the road
and drink at midnight

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Thursday Night Blues

rusted day milk continues
the grand reprise
flickering handclaps and
freckled lungs sing
underneath peach brassieres
the piglick sky is full
of glyphs, full of white,
full of ligatures

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Jawbreaker Blues

jawbreakers are poetry
licorice is a meal
children steal from
the day until it sinks
the applebras are lonely
breakfast was a lifetime
ago, and I can't get 1985
out of my head