02.23

0223

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(stella blues.)

stella
oh, my baby, stella
you are the one that i cradle in my arms
when we can’t pay the rent
when the landlord is banging at the door
in the starlit night we just sit
on my alabama porch
and i count the stars like pennies
and you sing me a twelve bar song

stella
oh, my baby, stella
your curves were made with intention
i met you at a pawn shop
and as soon as i saw you
pressed up against the wall
i knew i would give
a twenty-dollar gold piece
right off my watch cahin
just to have you

and you came on home with me
in the dark, dark mississippi night
and we stayed up
through the blackest of
black georgia twilight
and we talked about your skin
we laughed about the cost of everything
and i put my hand on your neck
and you took my other hand
and you pointed it up towards the north star

you spoke in rhythm
that was not lost on me
everything i said
you said right back to me
but with poetry
like an old blues song
grown from the deep south of your love

your fingertips like work songs
your field drab lips like field hollers
your wide, wide hips like spirituals

stella
oh, my baby, stella
i take you with me everywhere i go
together we’re safe from the black rum booze
together we’re safe from these blue devil blues
when i play you like a guitar
you play me right back
and i love you for it
oh, my baby, stella
i love you for it

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

STELLA

02.2013 is a twenty-eight day project chronicling my february of 2013 through poetry. to read the entries from the beginning CLICK HERE

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TOO FAR DEEP

and it’s getting
darker
and darker
by the
second
redefining
the concept of
black, the blackest of
black
and i’m not afraid

don’t
misunderstand me
for one second

i am not afraid
in the least, i am
content to
listen to the
sound of water
dripping
from
the
walls

i am happy
to listen to the wind
echoing circular

i am lost deep
in too deep
way too deep
too far deep

i’m running away from
something
into the arms of
death

i am trapped
inside a rising bottle of
poison
i am kissing
alice through the
looking glass

we are falling, our
guts in our mouths but
we are falling together
and i’m crossing
the line
the line
the edge
the point
where reason melts
like clocks
broken hands
of a clock
black eye
on its face
and seconds
are beats
in this
symphonic
movement

i am wide awake

i do not need light
to see i am everything

i can imagine myself
to be doors left open
the wind catching on the shades
red silk shades blowing
i am lost amongst them
whiskey dreams
absinthe nightmares
marijuana reality
the onyx shine
of the inside of
a beautiful
mind

skeletons
running on
treadmills
glow in the dark
thousands
and thousands
and thousands
around me
burn
down
the
curtains

my dear,
we don’t need them
let the stars dance with us
i can never be alone
as long as
you’re in
too far deep too
and you
are the muse i’ve made
you’ll never let go

a codine buzz
a disdain for yesterday
and i’m on it
i’m in too far deep
and my intent
is not to climb out

my intent
is to keep digging
until i get to
the
other
end
of my
reality

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2013

READ “THE HOUSE OF GOD”

SEVIER COUNTY

i followed endless yellow lines endlessly
through a ghost’s shadow in utah and
there were no crickets and there was no god
pushing endlessly through the endless stomach of
the pupil of eternity; i was alone the way you think of
a lighthouse as being alone
and in the onyx smoke of sevier county the headlights
of my vehicle only reminded me that this place
this gun buried in a bible
was never to be found
i was a bullet in a dusty barrel
and the moon was swallowed by the sky
one hundred some odd miles
no services
the analog clock on my dashboard
was irrelevant numbers
and the oldies radio station was the muffled voices
of dead people
drowsy drivers cause crashes
warned that sign that grew out of the earth
and my eyes acknowledged
two voids staring hollow into the void staring back
i was draining like a dirty bathtub
and from the desert night road to ghost rocks
a pair of headlights blinked at me from the margins of existence
i won’t stop i said out loud to my self
and in my rear-view mirror i saw those phantom eyes
fade into non-existence
in dark roads and dark rooms alike they will always haunt me
blinking forever, lost in never.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “ROGAINE”