And Beautiful

 

This black coffee too hot for inspiration
this Friday too listless to draw breath from the wind
this keyboard too foreign for unconscious free-flow
and me
waiting on my muse

traffic in fissures and sinew arterials
mapping of the circulatory system of economics
off-rhythm moan the tires of melody
everyone earning a paycheck
somewhere to go
someone to fuck

spark of illumination still a simmer
only a sip
through this dying day-and-age I am
asleep
I am adrift
through empty miles coated in caffeine
and green grass haze
escaping to nowhere
returning to nowhere

she alights imperfect and
we play our game
demure mother in husky patois
in ribald and clumsy contours
she smells like used books
summer rain
my muse
stitches worn near the seams
a dulling cull mistress of life's demands
a beauty no more

I've come to expect some callow rivalry
our curious affair
our reluctant fate
I can taste her on the tip of my pen
my muse
blistered and fading
angry
and as blind as we all are
and beautiful too.

TA

Some Muse

 

Some muse in stitching
and bloody fingers
you have become

even while I die inside
even while I lose my mythology
and the elfish turn their backs

you slither into the folds of my brain
edge me to sleep
if I could but pluck your eyes

bind your wrists
whisper wait for me
on your knees.

TA