Thursday, May 14, 2009


-jeffery mcnary

saturday's octave holds long notes, wearing its tasteful
simple boa and brocade to market place and square
alarmless and crisply fashionable…

and lunch as well it suggest

its chimes are playful as if not to hesitate nor stay
its glances freshly painted, its new smiles launched
by seamed legged scented women with aria eyes
come to charm and sue for lead singers with beauty with bounce

darting and teasing the diverse tribes
there sparkling and eager to begin with
like sketched images reaching for the tasteful
exploring the vogue of it all

the undaunted down in the village wear jeans today
while sipping coffee like ghosts searching for the psychic,
highlighting typos while looking for luck
or some muse or the other in whose wake to swim

saturday, a sweetness of things not yet invented
a sweetheart gently tugging secrets and whispers from babel
aloud, with store bought goods and glimpses of the festive
shades of the day have a way of pardoning both
careless and remarkable
soul-quenching and straightening out feelings

we’ll hear it’s song again
with its jingling dreams held in our arms like our own
and its promise of what that means

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