Originally posted 3/31/2011.

talk about walnuts dammit
speak of bananas or plywood
maybe there’s a door to consider
or typewriters themselves
so sexy and so willing 
to be closely observed

talk about bricks dammit
spend an hour staring at one
until you have the red dust
and the surface pitting memorized
keep staring until
the brick’s all mopped up
and your awareness of it
is ready to be wrung out onto paper

see the pavement — kiss it
see the cobweb — swallow it
find a key — stuff it up your nose
learn how brass smells
of dirty fingers and ozone
then gimme an epic about that scent —

start maybe with

first time you noticed  that smell
was when your mother died

the keys were in the hand
you bunched up to your face

you could smell and taste them
with tears and lemon polish

on the oak table where you laid your head
to weep when it happened

or anything else
any something or other
some incident
something or nothing at all
just talk about
something real

rage has no flavor
and neither does love
but bodies do
and so does your blood
so give us the taste of your iron
your salt, your sour meat 
we are hungry and thirsty
for you


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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