Armchair Philosophies

Southern Crush

04 Hobo Blues

banjo man plays a lick better than he sings, old hound can't tell

japan fans made from newspaper blues. Flower dress starched, just below the knee, propped along side the corner market barefoot and middle of June, sandy roads spread for miles, sweat beads like harmonica sliding from just behind the ear... "this heat hot, sho nuf." Her hand falls a tick left of his, tap that finger enough to make him know that water ain't neva gonna warm up

Crumblin blue corner piece shoves off from the side of his arm. Georgia tango winds round 'em to the river... catfish and crawdads bound to make momma's gumbo liiive. 

that boy sits dreamin in banyan

sounds stick like clay when day shines on, still ain't seen no popsicle man

gotta get bouillon for twilight sets, "Jimmy you got my dime?" Velvet black side slick cheek, rolls two nickels toward the crest of that sour tree. 

"betcha my dime, I knows a thang you don't." He stretches all six of that pack,

"betcha my dime," she says, "you knows all the thangs I don't." 

her leg sways from the bottom limb

 June beats down 'til she falls asleep down some cool water dark and hot on some sand colored backs 

Seven Signs of Sexy

Billy Holiday unleashed it. Josephine Baker stunned the world, because she couldn't stop the inside from coming out; she was freed by the sound, remade through the note and key. They tried repressing Elvis. He swung a little too much to the left making the righties jealous, why couldn't they catch it. Too little power trying to control so so much. Oklahoma hushed away and they thought we'd never return, they thought, we. would. never. return. 

Secrets of art, of life of  sexy. that don't go, no way. It needs not refuse to cower, for there is no thing that could resist the purest of this needless silhouette. 

read of a lady once, I watched her walk the street, a greyhound and a hare in one. Her strut has made kings into fallen men I am sure, that stinging beauty. I saw her walk the street, red dress flames blue steel eyes... 

Would anyone ever touch that power in her hands, the eloquence in her edified soul. Tingle toes, she sees. What did she call herself, coming from no sun close to ours. In her lonely stare and simple side smile it caught me something mysterious inside, a budding solar flare...  i am leaning     stretching toward a thing I call the epic, a tale beyond the inferno to exactly when that red scarf fell...     it fell...

I fall 

and fall

falling intoxicated, under water     in the note the path of shaking hips and quivering lips

I am she who watches, pours, drinks... I am the lady walking to get bread barefoot in that fire flare dress

 giving in - taking me away, I am under the instruction of soul sexy and you can only taste the thirst I am licking from your eyes... 

continuing to purr in that slick soooooul sex se   x   xy