Jul 22, 2020

Jeff Buckley

I’m listening to a dead man sing

and although his voice is hauntingly

beautiful, as he sketches nightmares

by the sea, I am not scared

of this bellowing ghost

but intoxicated

by his licks

strapped

with the loss of such a doomed

angel guitarist,

mysteriously disappeared

in 90s tide popularity.
-

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Mad Moon Over Mehringdamm

It was the whisper behind your words, after being scared shitless by the description of the eight of cups, that triggered the vanishing of o...

  • Tonight I Have Visions of Being a Poet,
    of standing in a room full of people listening      to my friend of twenty three years introduce me. He talks      of ping pong and sail bo...
  • Memory of Rain
    it was hungry, i could tell the yellow bicycle i was ten, it was hungry it was raining, i heard the window told me i could tell, that old fe...
  • Estacion de la Luna
    (from the moon series) The last stop before sleep. The idle lights and cold marble ground. The conveyor belts of the soul. Someone ha...