Hards to Explain Blues

Here with the crackling
of wood severing my spine;
I’m not alone

low-hanging rooftops
of put-to-rest
memories drape above me;

As I cling to the notes of jazz and blues
soothing the airways, deicing the mist
clouding the air;

then becoming tears
it’s safe though.

nobody’s looking;
though I’m not alone;
but, no one’s here;

but the chimneys of put-to-dusk
fireplaces that sneak
reminiscences of memories that
blazed aside me;

but dwindled abruptly;
without reason;

Left cold, I changed costumes
into the ever-changing note within

the simplest jazz set,
yet, the most hard to explain blues;
tooled on the most easily
recognizable instrument-gone-off key;

As I follow the path the music sheets
Lead from the lyrics written by
the most confused hearts, stuck in the
simplest silencesavoidance,
deceit, & retractions

Unlocked safety
Now falls tears.

nobody’s looking;
though I’m not alone;
even though, no one’s here;

but the degrees of winter’s
first blast that sneaks its
fallen heat into the images

of turned-to-brown greenery
to create an image of scenery
of a man listening to jazz and blues;
not alone though

but holding empty hands;
that were once you.

Mark Anthony Thomas
Copyright © 2011

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