somewhere out there

It'd like to say something tonight ,

but tonight-

their is a wrench inside

my gut

(as always)

and in the machinery of it all,

the universe; everything.

a curse that not even Bob Dylan could cure,

I still remember her brown eyes

like a sad day.

blue window

you see the blue sky outside your window
as the sun goes down and you think,
maybe that's why they call it the blues.
it's this shade of blue like dirty rainwater.

you light the herb into smoke
and up you go
into the brass tubes of a blue trombone.

a thousand expressionless
olive
faces looking out of a wooden window.

bright colored jackets with wide-rimmed hats,
they picked up their horns and played Blue sounds
onto every side of the Mississippi river,
then north into Harlem.