Taylor Rosewood Poems
|1.||Mercedes And The Impala||8/31/2010|
|5.||A Road Bending South||12/2/2010|
|6.||Your Cranial Universe||12/13/2010|
|7.||Living In The Past||12/30/2010|
|9.||An October In Ann Arbor||8/5/2010|
|12.||Rainbows For Chloe||8/27/2010|
|14.||If I Could Silence My Mind-||1/10/2011|
|21.||Through My Eyes||3/2/2011|
|28.||Poseidon And Amphitrite||1/5/2011|
The brown lady of the south is knocking at my door,
carrying bags of oranges she grows inside her yard.
It looks like a friendly gesture, but I know of her wily chops.
She's come by way of the canyons, and the friction makes her hot.
I dated he once before, but we never left her car.
It was a 67' Mustang, and she parked in my neighbor's yard.
The yard was full of brush, and the brush was ten feet high-
high enough to conceal the truth from my virtuous neighbor's eyes.
All night long she lied, and ran her fingers through my hair,
and led me to drink and ...
A let down is a drizzle
of tiny cold drops,
beaded and clear
on a tattered soft top,
that flaps and slaps
in a bone chilling wind,
converting your mood
from hopeful to grim,
because you planned for sun