mixing Black

Behind that window
I know who lives
typing thoughts
letter by letter
hunched in an
uncomfortable position
ashtray overflowing calm
a candle scent vanilla
pervades the air

He composes
letters to words
to poems
A manual of
his daily existence
Collected tastes
off Davie Street and
anxious tourists terror
exist on paper
between pages of
his observations

Behind that window
I know who lives
mixing Black
in this city of
uptight craziness and
deteriorating grace
Smokey and surreal
inked offerings
I will hear
when the Sun
touches noon
if
I could find him

Where have you gone?
I like to think
you are driving
the city streets
radio turned high
on your favorite song
hands drumming the wheel
Travelling like the wind
down narrow streets
absorbing rumours
and details
chewing the ass off anyone
you thought wrong
letter by letter
word by word
bringing you back
behind that window
I knew who lived
mixing Black

(in memory of friend/poet R.D.Black 1948-2000 )



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     I am a Canadian, yes , but I had the smarts and moved to the west coast, traded my snow shovel in for an umbrella. It was the best choice of survival. I love the arts and have been writing poetry since I was a little girl. This is my first submission so perhaps I am finally growing up. Since giving up the 9-5 I have time to do the things I love, write, paint, chat and sit in the sun. cheers! Happy New Year to everyone at the-hold!