Thursday, April 18, 2013

Come blow your horn


Take it in
deep down in the lungs
one long easy pull when it comes around

now hold it
long as you possibly can
pass it on quietly without too much fuss

tempered with toe cramping
laughter shading to great heaving sobs

beet red face a mirror
angled toward sundown’s broken yolk

tarnished opening chords
all swelling strings and quelling brass

strike me
as rather odd
but then again only one measured

is allowed.  Lungs bursting
I cradle my horn and wait to come in on The One. 

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