USA

jvhii@mail2artist.com

BLUE COLLAR

it was kinda like that

springsteenian line of

taking the wrong turn

and committing adultery

against your notebooks

your ears bleeding from Ginsberg

howling at you to take

the mules off your hands

third shift absurdities

pummeling you in the head

like angry boxers who don't hear the bells

molly maguire refugees sitting

in breathing dirty panty bars

belching high life prophecies

telling you to fight dirty

to claim hoffa golgotha redemption

bought and sold corpulent

ivory shirts popping their buttons

in your eyes for fun

spewing judas guilt baby milk diapers

all over your sweatshirted heart

until you are grabbing them

by their expensive throats

forcing them to stare at the Kerouac sunset

and whispering to them

that they can keep their blue collar

SHE LIKED THE COLD

Face pressing against the glass

Breathing hard as if for life

The foggy wetness being the faithful

Evidence of snowflake uniqueness

Inviting her outside to play



No two are alike she remembers

As Jack Frost offers his sugar hand

Turning stinging numbness

Into freeing nakedness



Making the flood frozen unicorns

Laying beside her in the mushy bed

Whisper glacial songs that she loves

To sing



While the wind frantically tries to cover her

Like a mother hoping to do it before the

Melting Frosty the Snowman sun finds her

And screams at the little red spots that say

She has been there for hours

HIS LAST DISPATCH

Knowing him the way I do

I wonder what this reporter of life

Was thinking-what was the deadline

He was trying to beat?



Had he written one story about everything

He knew and realized his Number 12's

Were empty?



Was his hunger for breath too much

To carry on the comfort stretcher

Of his imagination?



Were the bombs still going off in his cerebrum

When he pointed those two barrels of painkillers

At it?



Does it matter whether or not it came in the

Afternoon or that it came by his

Own hand and in Idaho of all places?

One is left to wonder

SUNDAY MORNING

In mercurial closets I sell

My plasma to the highest bidder

And drive away with my

Daily bagel intact

Passing all three of them-

Consolation Baptist

Deliverance Temple

Cathedral of Praise

Realizing that I'm

Somewhere in between

As the gray ladies who

Guard the corners

Flash lily gnashing teeth

At my half eaten circle of bread

And tell me to keep driving

Just keep driving

PRETTY BROWN EYES

Plain standing

next to blue

but standing

eyes

eventually have

to sit

down and

stop staring

because

kentucky jim crow

lawyers

don't

have a case

and don't

understand that

the delicious

candy caramel

color

of her shoulders

in the sun

is worth dying for

 

© All Copyright, John V. Haynes.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.