BETWEEN THE LINES: ‘Sunset Bluesman,’ a poem by Todd Hanks
By TODD HANKS
A bloody sunrise bluesman,
you’re down and out, with
a sound of punk and fifties grit.
Soft spoken loser,
your strings scream like
a hawk an arrow hit.
You’ve been a boozer,
a junkie with one toe
in the limelight, but
no quarter to flip.
You’re lost without an
audience, but go your own
way into a dropping net.
Sometimes your lone tune
body surfs in waves as blue
as the Pacific.
A particle of a comet,
you burn like a moth in the
hell of outer space.
But your star-bound rocket
never rose above the
clouds of black and gray.
Day’s end, you cup your hands,
filled with melodic water,
and hold the sunset.
Todd Hanks lives in Camdenton, Mo.
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