Poet of the Month
Michael Ubaldini
Stood at the Bus Stop in the Cold Wind
The beat of America is
Dead as we know it,
As the rhythm of one foot
Steps after another
Into an immortal oblivion of tranquility and lost dreams,
Forgotten
And left with no way home.
Street Singin' Troubadour Blues Way Over Yonder in 'The End Times'
I better capture the words right now
Before enchantment disappears
The eyes of honesty wept
Invoking love with fear.
Taste the shadows and the pain deep
In this whiskey flask,
Her arms hold me strong with truth,
Or does the rabbit don the mask.
We're warm within a shack beyond the cold
A flickering shack
With eyes burning through like coal
Four walls surround us
Created by a mind scheme –
Our love explodes like stars
In the night ocean stream
The lights burn the dark on all highways
The rivers flow where
Darkness makes love with the sun
Though I'm alone
Standing gazing toward the river's cape
Wondering if my openness will leave a wound where
My heart's at stake.
My collar's up
I hang my head and stroll along
I'm in search for salvation,
She's my lover, and if childhood dreams aren't but a whim,
I jump in –
Head first and drown before I'd swim.

