Harley Guys
with blubbin barrels belchin'.
All Leather, and denim,
with beat you up boots.
and lovin their mama's!
and the Law,
and the little ones
and the poor.
Vroom! Vroom!
And a tickle.
Vroom! Vroom!
On a sick-le.
JD Painter.
Paumanok, Spring, 2011
You know, at the Led Zep Cottage for Bards,
where everything ugly becomes beautiful.
And all your dreams come true.
____________________
*This came in a rush just now after sitting behind one at a red light on the way home.
I have other stuff I can throw in and make this poem more thematic. I don't know.
But this is a good start, and sometimes maybe it is better off to leave it alone.
But here I try to express the feelings, and of course the intellectual is behind the feelings and language, as opposed to the way it normally is maybe, where the feelings underly the intellectual, and is reflected in the language. I don't know. It's like that on the banjo too sort of. Out there in the void, and with no tether. or maybe the language is the tether to the intellectual, and connects the feelings, or the twain.
