Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Purple Haze


the meat in my head is purple
where once it was orange 
as a kid riding my bike through the city

i don’t see things the way i did back then
when i worked at the spaghetti warehouse
before afghanistan and the world trade center

i’m not sure what my emotional state is
most of the time. if i’m getting better or worse
there is a name for my condition but that doesn’t help much

i bought a gun a few weeks ago and take it out
and look at it sometimes when you’re sleeping
the horses standing just outside the window

the wind blowing the rain across the road
a long slow train leaving the station
tomorrow or just the end of time

4 comments:

Mary Steele said...

"The sun will come up tomorrow. Betcha bottom dollar that tomorrow, there'll be sun. " ☀️

j. paul gorman said...

.perspective of time.
.a true curse.
.for the backwards.

.the forward people.
.march and ride.





heather g said...

A new day

Victoria Bennett said...

This poem takes my breath away, Bob. It is so perfectly attuned to this time and place. It's heartbreaking.
Nicely Done.

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