from Clangings

So I left my apartment, got down where
I tried getting going outgoing. You know,
taking control, like when you say "hello
there, Blue Beautiful:" Bossed me over

to the bar to make noise out of nonsense.
Why do people love hair? Because it twirls.
Why does my stucco computer store girls
who say o god not him? Frankensense,

my eyes bled resin, hardened to tears.
Out of her rocks, or at least rocky soil,
I wanted the quality of her bloom; smell,
aroma. How her was mine; mine, hers?

Since you asked, please remember not
answering is no odder than Nevada's
name. Nevada, my muskalot sonata's
non grata. Called her after her street.

Goodnight kisses, traded in ice trays.
What's my touch? A zillion electrons
rejected by somebody's other zillions.
Lay down light, dear gone-as-always.

Tweet
Copyright © 2011 Steven Cramer All rights reserved
from Sugar House Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission