VEIN OF CERULEAN by Jake Berry and David Thomas Roberts To transcribe some self from the trunk of a certain post oak 4.3 miles NNW of Chatom, Alabama speeding the ventricles to your ghost lumberyard upon a box of melancholy candy The trucks roll slowly out of the midnight traces of broken main street, rip through a chorus of curses before disappearing down the mountain with that glad rag I still sleeping in back the *vermilion* I uncorking by twilight dour as some good buddy swoops and preens a bevy of tawny faces blunt as lacey coriander mincing to doctrinaire hallucinations spun horny and torrid as night in the Ozarks I have seen the preening stars slip from their gauze and sing from pitted vale to high torn caves that drink the wind In a shanty hidden by tawny elms autumn find her rhythm and dresses night in the rainy gowns to make the sun come crisp and clean to make a dead man breathe again The plum tree withers, the plow horse lopes slowly to let the cool air speak like a vein of cerulean open to whole galaxies frisky as first play among planets or a child laughing at his open grave October 14-20, 2013
Posted on: Sun, 20 Oct 2013 09:28:19 +0000
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