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D. B. COX
sweet release what sort of storm washed him up here on this concrete beach of late-night neon sun thin as a one-eyed jack back to the wall arm extended for loose change, like the handle of a slot machine, waiting for another jerk buzz on the street says: he was a shooting star across the corporate skyline, a player on his way up -- when an addiction to the nightlife left him with a bad gambling jones -- "all-in" on everything from roulette to rolling bones now every evening after sundown he's on the sidewalk panhandling hard until he fills up an old dixie-cup with enough coins to walk in a casino & repeat the sweet release that comes with once again losing it all. hearts & minds joined by a rope & circumstance they're dragged, stumbling across the compound sacks over their heads stick-thin in black silk -- bent figures that will not be broken jungle-boot heels to the face arms twisted to impossible angles .45s across bony skulls nothing - silent like rain in the distance watching, i wonder -- is it crazy courage that holds their tongues, or simple ignorance could any of them give up anything worth this much pain -- the precious prisoner, hidden by a hood, swallowing the blood-spattered key to the hearts & minds of the people another unforgiving day -- the burning eye of the sun beats down like judgment. D.B.Cox: Blues musician/poet, originally from South Carolina, now resides in Watertown, Massachusetts. Has had poetry published on-line in: ken*again , Adagio Verse Quarterly, LauraHird.COM, Zygote In My Coffee, Remark, Underground Voices, Sacramento Poetry Art & Music, and others. Has appeared in print in: Aesthetica, Circle Magazine, Shadow Poetry, My Favorite Bullet and Open Wide Magazine. |
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© 2004 Underground Voices |
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