Eve Rounds

battle of the bands

he didn’t expect anyone to listen
his brass notes
swallowing up the water
in unison with
the mist
gulping down the rest of us

he didn’t expect me to sit down next to him
an unobtrusive stranger sharing his modest stage
opting for soul
rather than
hippy techno
down the breakers

“you are such a nice surprise destination sir”

such a short time for this time
to revel and to sob
the final blocks so unbearable
i give myself
to sink into the contrast
my pace ever quickening
my soul so far behind it may have
opted for the second hand smoke

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!


is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards