Bluebird Chimes and Cafe Checks

Motor me and wreck me through;
you caught me up; you sung by night.

The wild sky reach and glass of wine; the sip of air –
so crisped and shatter. It sounds like spiked drink up and
ladies bare all.

Push the temp for accurate sensation, pulse gone wild
and feel the rumble. You can bite some asphalt;
the road-worn acts; let’s freak.

Now it makes sense?

Or are you woken with bluebird chimes and cafe checks?
Knocked from drawer; pah dumph peashé – a cashier death –
with last-time thoughts of wants and sips.

2010 Barry Comer

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About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, http://www.familyscholarhouse.org the Democratic Socialists of America http://www.dsausa.org and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
This entry was posted in Albert Camus, Allen Ginsberg, Arthur Rimbaud, beat poetry, bible, David Cronenberg, God and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Bluebird Chimes and Cafe Checks

  1. weight says:

    yeah my dad will like this

  2. I’m really liking your writing.

Comments are closed.