January 11, 2012

down but not out

And it comes to that part of night
and it comes to the singing part
he's remembering the words as he goes along
and my blood's so thin with beer
that there's weight in the air
and the air's my best blanket
and I've fallen asleep
feet flat on the floor
again.

Brooklyn, NYC
1960, photographer William Gale Gedney

4 comments:

Ms. Moon said...

Did you write that? Damn, boy.

downtown guy said...

This one seemed like it needed lyrics.

May said...

Before I even checked the comments, what I wanted to write is that the photo is good, but the poem is better.
"and it comes to the singing part"
fuck you.
You see the beauty in the dirty and the everyday and the dogs and the babies and the women of the rough stuff more than anyone I've ever known, and you write even better.

downtown guy said...

Well, all that stuff is beautiful.