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stretch stained
I awake
crisp wretched
and the television
muffled booming
crawl beneath my door
and stand up

press down the
corners where they
and float to my
window for a look

the brick wall windowed
building three doors
across snow crested
chimneys and
steaming vents

like an island
I watch with one
eye open
one ear exposed

one self in a mirror of dreams
one self awake and blurry
see my books my boots
curled up beneath a
battered bureau
and I haul myself up
jarring with maps of pain

down the rest of the gin
like a bottle of tears
and shiver off the
dark haunt fears

and down the creaking
twist of stairs
to the common landing
the doors single window

framing the morning rush
the winking traffic signals
singing their red
greens and cautions

and Roger leaning
in the piss smelling
lazy boy watching
Good Morning America
and rolling bum smokes
in the pages of the

like a mist and halo
upon his ancient head
like a street cynic saint

The winter March winds
howl in the wires
at eye level

and my inner persona
howls back..........

Editing stage: 


but couldn't connect to the title . It sure has a certain connotation that I'd like to see

The winter March winds
howl in the wires
at eye level

and my inner persona
howls back


Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

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of having no connection or too vague
(all this true)
I merely created a Number
(large because phone numbers now
and passwords are required to have
many large count)

listening to Flowers Duet
a break from Limp Bizkit
and Hank Williams Sr

I lived at this rooming house
101 I could have put

101 worthington avenue

I dont know could that have been
a better title
it is the real number the real street

Roger passed but he was the character
the town drunk
the town sage in pigeon park on the
corner where scotiabank is
across from toppers pizza
on the kitty corner

Thank You

author comment

Thinking you were writing about Ventura highway or Route 66!

will have to Venture to have a look c about the venerable Ventura..

author comment

which linked me to a band I remember listening to
on WoWo radio station of the seventies and nineties
(I think...) then I see the links from Wiki...the story
within the story about a poem or lyrics......
and yes I see that it is similar....I appreciate your
short comments that bring home the importance
of how our work here is a reflection to the greater
homeage of the greats of poetry...

we are wayfarers of the heart and soul
with our eyes and ears to the ones who
have ventured before us

(There an off the cuff tribute to a great song
and to grumblying old elders like myself now)

Thank You

author comment

I read your work over and over and try to learn, although do not always comment, as I feel I do not yet know enough to say something that might resemble an intelligent remark. You are not ignored. I do come closer to understanding you in this write.


He who conquers self , has won a great battle

I deeply appreciate the time people like you spend in trying to
decipher the works...I am slowly coming to understand the
depth people read here...I am working at bring the concepts
of a Concept vehicle of a poem to the utilitarian level of a
working roots read that one can openly enjoy with as little
effort...Poetry is after all a delight a joy and sometimes
somber examination of humanity...

Thank You

author comment

read this as finishing with
'and one ear exposed' and would have been happy with that
then clicked and saw the rest, which was for me a bit too much info,
not your style which is always worth reading but the content, too ordinary, rolling cigs, drinking gin. so what, still I liked it, some great images as always,

the wake up potion...half a can of soda
suck in a lungful of bitter hot ache that
gnaws a warmth in the buckled centre
of a dream....then climbs volcanic to the
mantle of the mind.....

No Roger (that was his name) would sit
and roll the butt scrounged home rolled
in that battered old Lazy Boy...watching the
tube...we had large window beside him
The old twenties brick and the full door
to watch the denizen of all...the odour of
these cigarettes was overt and striking
to say the least....He was the vast storehouse
of Knowledge for history and current

thank you

author comment
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