May 11 by The Running Son
A dude answering for poetry in the face of a girl..
They pay me well.
I’m bi-placed, frozen in space,
and now I’m faced
with telling of names and aged dates
of cagey friends, and dads,
ghosts and lame past
grit grey ghost
me child, eventually away.
I dream of being beside you,
on Sundays, along sun-sides.
You always seem so moon-lane wide
and I find
my star-ways and sea-ways
my own way, in any way.
I must ride silver side down, a ways.
Through high times
and across highways, and during high sighs,
but they were all ways to find you, i now find.
But you find me! And girl, you are some+thing!
me? ii i feel like im uumm–
like i b twelve years of age, like a babee
Or maybe nine, and trying too hard,
mountain-climbing way too high for poets to even see
to write, eyes toddler teary. Nice try.
but love, strengthening, says otherwise,
and I’m warmed
by rays, made or traded,
any way i can get them, baby.
by Jim Aldrich