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curled tongue
licking clouds
the dark nostril
in thoughtful flare

blinking blind like the
focal glee of the watts
on the dimestore tree

shit me some tinsel
and call me santa

she gears the lazy boy
handle in a death grip
slopping kentucky
bourbon on a battle
scarred street ware
when the catch releases
falling back

eject eject

ice cubes frothing
and pink toes stretching
the two christmas store
wrapped gifts stolen from
the hatchback gleam back
like an ironed metal sheet
of red and green

pall malls to the lucky
the carny seasons over
winter crawls traffic across
the calm black river
the swallow hits her
with a shiver

dark pupils wide
gush at the ceiling
of paradise
creaky fake leather
unlike the atrocious winter
thick gobs of flakes
like knock off liner

Dickies on the tag
always makes her snicker
slips inside the canvass
lined sleeves and curls
up in the hazed dream

atlantic dampness
fighting back
the drafts

tree shinning tasty as

red rimmed and moist
just another damned
answering machine
but its still a voice....

Editing stage: 


Since I had no idea what the title means I figured I'd better read this to find out lol. Actually laughed aloud at stanza 3. But then you made a 180 and this sank into the despair of the holiday spent alone . Your stuff always makes me think and thinking give me headaches lol..............stan

I remember each Christmas my mom used to take me under the El to pick out a tree ,trains screeching to a stop at the Buhre avenue station, Back home she decorated with lights and angel hair, Now,

red rimmed and moist
just another damned
answering machine
but its still a voice....

Where did the time go?

like drawn to a ideal moment for moment
thats the time where not time stands
but of a vision reachable recallable in dreams
in a whisper a jolt a shatter
a sigh

i see them all the time again
and new ones.....i will one day not be
but the visions
the drawn dreams will be here
rising like light from the dark
exploding like a firework sparkler
or a phantom in the dead of night

author comment

Liked this a lot, loved the picture that emanates as i read this poem. Regards Roscoe..

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

Rebecca Godfrey's book..
'the torn skirt"
some of her characters borrowed from
other stories of pop and pressed books
movies zines etc

we love the Dean Moriarity of life
the flare flame and dazzle but to live with
these individuals its not for the faint of
heart at all.....i have lived with these
and interacted knowing who they were
male or female
those whom ride far beyond the safe
gossip world of contextual thoughts

ideals thrown aside
running on fuel and nerve
and yet those that emate
words of creative poem or lyric
make films

subtle statements of power

i liked how

godfrey wrote
still do

i have the book and read it often
one of the muses of late
for writing character descripts

willingly i share where i find inspiration
so i give credit where credit is do

thank you..

author comment
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