One of my favorite poems. Enjoy! AUTOBIOGRAPHY
You could say I rode a tall horse.
You could say I rode a long black horse.
In reality I'd never even touched a horse.
I drove by them all the time.
Horses loose in pastures;
horses tied to fences, to trees;
horses running wild along the ditches;
and then the ones that simply stood in the rain,
that baked in the sun,
that dreamt with their heads down.
As I shot past in my car it was all I could manage
Well it's been a while, but here is #10 in the Jazz Poetry Series. JANUARY AFTERNOON, WITH BILLIE HOLIDAY For Studs Terkel
Her voice shifts as if it were light,
from chalk to parchment to oil.
I think of the sun this morning,
how many knives were flashed
through black, compliant trees;
now she has aged it with her singing,
turned it to milk thinned with water,
a poor people’s sun, enough
knowledge to go around.
I want to dance, to bend
as gradually as a flower,