potluck of poems

Doing the ol' biannual poetry submissions- posting some of the more unfinished ones that didn't make the cut. The irony here is that the readership on one blog in a million just might be higher than in one little magazine out of ten.

Arrested

I used to have a different luminosity,
a kind of negative emanantion of the mind
A negative goal in a transient life.

Here though is a mysticism,
Lost and found,
projected through jazz,
John Coltrane,
Bouncing off of these angled walls
with the possessions of my soul.

When I slinked there
as I did, on Montreal streets
I searched for you and found you
tippling on Sangria
ready for anything.

And when I slink here
I think of the nights when you reached,
Searching for something
you hoped would entwine us
creating unnnecessary longings
on the spot
that we could cast in an amber of distance

My longings are necessary now
and our memories exist in tandem
In this way we may be arrested together
But I hope that we'll never be jailed.




the wicked spread at the weekly potluck I hosted this evening