Kinds of Blue

Kinds of Blue

A common meander this
need for answers the
seventh note leans on the
eighth like a greasy stranger
 
We fight the hardness of our lives,
stuffing the jar with gods,
hunting the wild epiphany
 
One day it all comes
screaming down –
a one becomes a no one.
 
You are left with the
privilege of living,
of adding to the painting
 
Cerulean, azure, lapis lazuli
married with marillion a
pleasing maroon,
cast away
 
Tethered by fact I am
not the best of friends I
cannot give you the
consolation you deserve
 
But I will sit on your
last chair as you curse
the bureaucracy of death and
play with your late wife’s
indefatigable dog
 
And I will drive your
furniture to Jackpot, Nevada

As we pass through Elko,
a grassfire paints the sun red.
The smoke seeps through your vents,
conjuring a tear for
something other than grief,
a tired smile
 
You will have more of
these moments,
and better.





Michael J. Vaughn's twentieth novel, Figment, is now available in both digital and paperback forms at Amazon.com.

 

Charlottesville

Charlottesville

Some sort of calcified
incident triggers an
upswell of rage

Beware the life without
meaning it will take
others with it,
turn idle thoughts into a
foot on the accelerator

We invented the
automobile to take us places,
to shrink the world,
to bring us closer

Now it raises the seas,
now it clogs the byways.
Now a man taking
succor from a lack of
pigment plows into a
crowd of his countrymen

reduced to targets
reduced to bowling pins
slaughtered for not agreeing

Is this what we have
become or what we
always will be?

--Michael J. Vaughn