Her neck veins bulge
as she belts out the old rock number
For some reason I focus on them
and not her other bountiful parts
On a junkie’s withered arm
On a dying loved one’s forehead
On a diabetic’s swollen leg
protruding veins evoke
desperation, loss, and pain
But tonight they symbolize
energy, passion, and desire
There can be no guilt
over nature’s meanderings
and no meaning
short of context
Hello, Rick.
ReplyDeleteI came across you after you left a comment on someone's post at the Fill in the Gaps blog. I've been going through some of your poems here, and am enjoying your work. I noticed you also play bluegrass, and that got me to thinking... maybe you'd like to submit some of your work (music, poetry, or both) to the online literary and culture magazine Sloth Jockey. I am the book reviews editor and a frequent contributor there, and thought I'd point you that way, if you are interested in contributing. (Neither music nor poetry are the bits edited by me, but I still think your work would be a nice addition, if you'd like to send it to the editor in charge.)
Thanks, and I'll be seeing more of your work, whether here or there (or both!)
Shelly