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 ...
An October In Ann Arbor
While others may convene at the Big House,
I'd rather be at the flat chasing you,
or there on the floor with young Mrs. Krause,
while she told me all the things I should do.
I know you're not her, but give it a try,
there's some horn rims and heels on the night stand.
There's a black frock too, with the neck cropped high.
You can insult, degrade and reprimand.