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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. |
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© 2005 Underground Voices |
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