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listening to kind of blue
before the cd spins
california red
a tip of the head
and limbs soon like lead
subtly suffocating
air cool but humid
the fan chills perspiration
beading like morning condensation
on skin cold and clammy
beneath its licks and caresses
a tight nugget
a clenched fist
tight in my head
but the glass is empty
time for filling
some more sloshy red
from a bottle olive green and dripping
label rubbed to nothing
since '98
those grapes been fomenting
time lapse photography
with kind of blue playing
grapes dark and frosty
blow up like balloons
till grape juice comes out gushing
'neath pale bare feet scarlet stained
and crushing
flamenco sketches
the knot in my head
under a big fat toe pressing
stretches, bursts
and like a jammy concord grape exploding
the pressure lessens
replaced by purple stained calves
and laughing
fucking sensuous
ripe fruit bare feet and calves coating
but an interruption:
a Lucile Ball of ginger fire
detonates
mind is fading
on my big brass bed
linen is pressing
to your calves wet and dripping
grape juice on your toes
my tongue sucking
sulfates and oxides
heart is pounding
listening to kind of blue
but i heard nothing
| Posted by Matt at 12:34 /writing # |