After Pasold/Regier’s Now, & Idling…
In a clammy bar smelling of horseraces across from a man
with
nothing on his hands maybe time in his somehow woke-up air
really
can’t put my finger on those empty hands
but
an undetermined quality worth staking something on
can’t really
but
my thumb upon a bright bet
now
but
another ghost to pin down simply
hand my thumbs upon
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1 comment:
Awesome poem, George. you have been missed here on Rewords, and i so look forward to reading more of your poems here as they emerge.
In this one, I really enjoyed the way you fluctuated between the long and very short line. The language is tight, and evocative. I look forward to revisiting it often, as I have done over the past week.
Jen D
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