slow dancing.

all these mythical rivers i've been swimming

the likes of. Huh?

All this occasional dating from and preserved

from past time. And all I really wanted

was for my jam to come on.

that sibilant hiss

on a crowded, damp floor; that bodily

breakdown as I hurl myself towards you

like the savage beast

I saw on "Discovery" that breaches still waters

to eat the unsuspecting girl-bird. That boom

hypnosis, that ruthless grind between

rhythmic bones in motion. But

after all they diagnosed me on the verge of

tantrum: under the lymph lasting macrophanges

of  hipness. Could be Jerry Butler, slow

with his palms up, but then

again it could be just histamine descending 

down from ghetto settlements like a lead scarf

thrown over times shoulders. I so hated to lose

your embrace. But inadvertently the music stops.

The music always stops. 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"Only the Strong Survive"
animals kill for survival, we kill for sport...animals mate for survival...what do we do?

maybe we just breech...
"descending down from ghetto shoulders...and yes, "the music always stops"
i want it to continue as long as it can....
I found myself humming Johnny Rivers..."slow dancing, swaying to the music---no one else in the whole wide word"--
your poetry is music...the kind that came from the sixties...the kind with substance.
j.

[h d e rushin]

oh yes, Johnny Rivers "Secret Agent Man"/ 60's Rockabilly-folk-soul. Thank you my friend....dana