Long Distance Blues
My little girl is grown, but I don't know where she is
My body's only child is grown, and I don't know where she lives
She once called me from Savannah, but I've been years without her kiss
Alabama's got my mother, youngest brother, and my sister, too
I call my mother in Decatur, my brother and my sister, too
But one brother's in Kentucky, living lonely like I do
Twice a month I see my darlings, and the weekend goes so fast
Just twice a month my wife and children, lord, the weekend goes too fast
Then my sweetheart shows she loves me—how long can this life last?
I'm so tired of living with my baby three hundred miles away
Can't sleep when I know she's sleeping so many, many miles away
I'd call and wake her every morning, if I just knew what to say.
A few Quick Notes:
- As he requested, I've removed the links to Antonio Savoradin's blogs. Come back soon, Antonio. I've also added two links I've meant to add for months: Possum Pouch (where there's a new baby!) and Never Neutral.
- Congratulations to Eileen Tabios, and everyone she's worked with, on the imminent publication of Pinoy Poetics.
- Belated congratulations to Joshua Corey on his forthcoming book, his second prizewinner.
- Reen at starnosedmole wrote a poem a day for NaPoWriMo (you can find the archives here in the April entries), which was a good part of the impetus for me to start these May Poems so soon after my January-February sonnets. Joseph Duemer is also posting daily poems, and, of course, Jordan Davis continues his Million Poems.
- I still don't have a living room.
9:22:59 PM 
|
|
