american nomads

january wind cuts
like a cold-chisel

through cemetery
rows of watchful
parking meters

tombstone reminders
that time
never sleeps

waiting grave markers
for graying
prodigal sons

traveling, done-in
along naked
narcotic streets

still unwilling
to swap

of unfillable space
& gratuitous

for a valid world
of comfortable
clichés & pipers

sweet songs
of coming home --

american nomads
feeble streetlights

that mark the way
from failing grace
to dream-empty rooms

D.B. Cox is a blues musician/poet, originally from South Carolina. After graduating
from high school in 1966, he did a four year stint with the U.S. Marines, then moved
to Boston to attend the Berklee School of Music, where he eventually found the blues
circuit. He loves writing for the same reason he loves playing the guitar-a way to
communicate how he feels at a given time, on a given day. He now resides in
Watertown, Massachusetts. His writing has been published online in Zygote In My
Coffee, Remark, Underground Voices, Dubliner Quarterly and others, and in print in
Aesthetica, Snow Monkey, My Favorite Bullet and Open Wide Magazine.

© 2005 Underground Voices