Archive for May 9, 2020

West Hollywood, Late 1972

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 9, 2020 by dc

His hair’s thick
Like the flap
Of corduroy flares,

The back of
A black llama’s neck,

A horse’s whipped tail
Or an old velvet drape.

His smile is an ache,
A chiselled curl,

The light patch
On a leather couch,

And the warm spot
In an old saloon
Slicing dusty sun.

His voice is an interruption,
A ramble torn wild,

Cogs twisted
And splintered,

Rattling rocks and rust,
Lubricated by
Whisky and rain,

Then fermented.