ryan blood Poems

good meant blonde
i was to understand
wholesome,
big breasts,
...

her hands
are workers hands
hands that have produced
art
...

i dreamed of you and me
not climbing
but settling in the belly of
a mountain
...

it is nearly spring -
the promise of warmer weather
and rain
looms like the last impatient notes
...

and some days
she just
smiles
at you
...

i hear the twang
of someone's sadness
played
on a steel guitar
...

i go there still
if not to dream of you (and the time before)
then to pretend that i am
to see daylight glint off
...

wind teases hair
breathes salt air
on skin
as we set up chairs
...

we are not so much savages
as we are men
not simple men, not farmers,
or men of the fields,
...

slowly, & with the caution
of a tongue extending itself
into scalding tea,
...