Leaving Texas

I’m leaving

The late night hours

Wandering the azalea streets

I’m leaving

The rain soaked bayous

Haunted by the hanging moss

I’m leaving

The blood soil soaked in iron

I’m leaving the smell

Of dry paper pine

And a tiny blue heart

Fluttering on a market bound rack

I’m leaving the wide bright stars

And the water air

And the ice house fists

And the shotgun blues

And the okra woods

And the shadows at the door

And the refinery nights

And the sea walled lives

I’m leaving

the lessons I learned

and the legacy of memories

and the graveyard nights

and the long slow song

of a southern self.

I’m leaving.

Verse Wisconsin Online 101. Spring 2010

20 Poets Reading at MMoCA, Feb 5, 2010

American Images