Friday, March 27, 2009

Poetry: Inside



two voices
one is Southern
the other is mine

Southern says speak, act as if, & play
mine feels radiowaves signal across a haywire field of fucker-uppers
but instead says okay

Southern presses record
mine suggests the gray slab of building has cupped thoughts in an alley
by the Metro where the maple leaves have scattered thunder

mine shows a poem in the backpocket, directs words for Southern
my arm’s a pillow & my foot’s a saint

Southern intimates a question with pursed lips
mine deliberates that the world has blown up and asks finally
about the tape recorder
mine jumps the void, clinging to the window frame

~ By Aldrin Valdez ~


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