"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Have you ever been in a room where old men in

threadbare suits  sing their threadbare hearts out?

Sweat coursing  they come up beside you   Sweat now

flying into hair +eyes   One bold creeper bestows a

bordello scented rose   It cannot be packed for the trip



Border dogs +guards would howl at the reek of your cheap

carnality   And crocodile tears wouldn’t save you from tooth

+ jowl    But wait  the same bold bluesman has stolen a kiss

Lips moist  laboured breath   Grizzled one tempts you out the

side door   +onto the back of his bicycle


Through dark parishes  +a cemetery or 2  you come to a halt at

a rickety pier   Backroads astride the great Mississippi   It is here

that you are baptized    He trembles  +moans in tongues  as frigid

black water licks    Red hair  medusa-snakey  flares out in a fan


You float  +a zillion stars above  form constellations in the shapes

of old men with guitars   Next night it is you up on stage  knowing

you will miss your plane    Now the bride of Little Freddie King!

What was before was never yours   so you have lost nothing   From

this day forward juke joints call yo name



Winter  2017

for Lightnin Lee + Little Freddie King  for the kiss+the rose  Siberia New Orleans 2013

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