Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Like Georgia O'Keefe

I cry skeletons
bleached at a cracked
red dirt mud hole
visions etched in my face

I've got the blues and I like it
sing it to me Ray Charles
stroke my keys bay be
but I know I must leave

for the blues train your
brain: an addiction
caught in the trap of misery
where I no longer want to be