D. B. COX


searching for the door

night steps on stage

without fanfare-

an overlaid, underpaid lady

lingers at the intersection

of 12th street & absolute zero


distant-

like nobody can touch her

a high-stepper

with voodoo hips

perfume rising like a prayer

from her once retail body

lately relegated

to working the wholesale

side of the street-


hard-time hustler

with a face

like a city map folded

too many times-

sad eyes filled

with junk-sick rivers

she faces another night

made of waiting-


swaying in place

staring back

over her shoulder

as if she's searching

for the door

she came in through


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the night

trying to outlast the night

mind utterly out of control

dreams have become one

with the dreamer

too much nervous noise

freight trains rolling by

louder than usual

i can hear the blood rush

through rivered arms-

in my head every image

is reduced to its essential elements

broken down

& put together again

still

fragments drift apart-

leaving a feeling of sadness

too sweet for the blues

like when a train

pulls away from the station

& leaves you standing

at the outer edge of nowhere

without a reference point-

all sanity swallowed

by unrestrained confusion

reality bleeds away

& will not last till morning


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