Funeral Music
secrets wrapped
in an underground vault
within my mind
music that has
given a dash of spirit
to this savage life
volumes and grooves
encased between covers
to be played when
the procession weeps
whenever and
wherever
that might be
the loves of my
life will hear these
melodies and
wonder what
the hell they
saw in this
strange
being
between
moments
of tearful
joy and rage
and the
bands will
trumpet
on without
me
***
Dark Day
even the cat is moving
like a pool of molasses underneath this grey sky
the music alternates
between the voices of dead junkies and rockers
in the shower with the bright
overheads on at noon
no merry conversation
just knowing nods
black-bound books
of French poetry
pretending to read
the left side in its
original language
but straining peripherally
to scan the right side
translations
the food is cold
and so are the thoughts
a day of clichés
among them turtlenecks
and jeans
and bare feet
European cigarettes
making us go
color blind
the night is approaching
and the dark day is gone the Stax soul music is booming
the horns blowing away
the dead leaves of
glum
