Shakey frostbite artist scrawl
in painful seizure Chevrolet
Fuck! My chest scraped open
in bloodless abandon!
I wonder if Sean has received
my owl? And if not, will it
reach him in time? And will he care?
Or will he once again reject me?
I’ll be close to an hour early
when this earthquake on wheels
jitters to a stop as I cling
to psalms once pressed together
for Laurie’s benefit.
Words written slowly
as we inch by Carnegie Hall.
I don’t feel like writing anymore.
A spare thought that becomes truth,
that becomes despair.
But I don’t really completely finish until
I reach my destination (who does, really?)
even when scratched beneath a different shade of ink.
Written by Jason Wright
October 9, 2018
For Sean Mobley,
my lost inspiration and seemingly perpetual muse.
And for Laurie Finney ,who was kind enough
to sing my praises when I attempted to DJ for
her circle of friends. Were it always so blissful!
