Wave

Wave

We met on some shimmering June,
then things got very dark.

We killed our love,
almost killed the moon,
but here's three hexes
for your lover anyway.

Remember
those good days,
we had a few.

Yes those days will come again,
we can tell each other about them,
some day.

Crack street,
where the water runs through,
and things get very dark.

Green Ringlets on my mind,
high tide coming in,
I threw an evil index
in a bottle
into it.

Smoky blue horizon,
wave crash sound.

Black streamers of cloud
over the moon,
I'll tell you about it one day.

-Will Dockery (1997)

To the Sea Angel

To the Sea Angel

Riptide waves,
there goes the sea angel,
right above the waves.

These mystery years,
where would I be without them?
What if I'd stayed happy?

Years lost,
these last few I've played catch up,
drifting from the shore.

Barnacles on an olive shell,
brain choral in my mind.
Instrumental tune,
made by the incoming waves.

I tossed a starfish back in,
watched it twirl away,
and thought of you.

-Will Dockery (1997)

Transmission

Transmission

My mechanism receives
vibes like Morse code signals.
To the rhythm of these messages
Juliette taps her tambourine.

Her eyes
are closed now.
She chants a tune
like a radio to my soul.

Hieroglyphics and haiku
carry the unhappy news.
My mobile gizmo
is a haunted mechanism.

I'm posting this Instagram
like a message in a bottle.
Hearing her melody
in chains of this wild war.

-Will Dockery

Conversational Abyss

Conversational Abyss

We never spoke
of many things
ever again.

So the conversation
drifts

Waiting
for the answer
into infinity.

-Will Dockery

Gina

Gina

I thought of you
about nine years ago
or more
for a minute or two.

Is it because
after 15 years
(and now what is it, 19?)
the ghosts of the past
still exist.

When I'm sitting here thinking
when I'm all alone.

I was living
in a speed nightmare
drinking wine
so I could go to sleep.
Walking around
by the pine trees.

Looking around
in God's little world.
These things
took some time
like the erosion of a stone.

There was the last day
of German class
and walking.
And what you told me
about your father
and what he had done in the war.

You said you would forgive me
for what I said
but you never did.

You rubbed my chest
with menthol.
That seemed
to really help.
That
and your tuna fish kiss.

You wore that
fundamentalist dress
it was thick green wool
and sometimes brown.

You looked like
an imitation Aryan gypsy
wearing your
little brown fern style belt
and copper braces.

I still can remember
all of your faces.

-Will Dockery

Behind The Forest

Behind The Forest

Under the tent
can't describe this light.

Under the black base
are blue and red shadows.
The ink glistens
silvery like tiny mercury.

Working to purity
music and words and sweat.

No tears
Forget tomorrow
Let go the problems in time.

Sun bleached cure
the addiction does not hold me
as the drugs
human drugs
create the sound.

Saint Augustine night
moon mother smiles.

Catch the flow
it may never be back again,
though possible.

Poetic form disintegrates
quit cold turkey,
so I can find what I have lost.

Termite stars shine
on the oldest city.

The fascist doctors
are no match for the
old man with beads.

Double digeridoo warble
aboriginal soul hum.

Sweat
blue meets red.
Let it drop
for peace of mind.

Fingerpicking violinist
weaves notes
through the breeze.

Words about money float by.
Hope springs eternal
as long as the well ain't dry.

-Will Dockery (1997)

Missy's Heart

Missy's Heart

"14 days of booze and floozies.."
"Getting settled in Down South, I see?"

Missy's in town
all the way from N-O-L-A
In the motor lodge across from
Sandy's café.

She smiles too much
to be for real
give her a dub
for a little feel.
A few more miles to Alabama
I drop another dollar
in the well.

Missy smiles out the window of her room
at the Heart of Columbus Motel.

She asks
where I want to put it.
Magnolia springtime
smoky haze
"Attendez-vous, s'il vous plait."
The carnival's back in town
although we've both
seen better days.

Homebrew molasses
watch her hands
fresh off a bus
from New Orleans
just about Midnight.

A few more miles to Alabama,
another drop of water
in the well.
Missy smiles
out the window of her room
at the Heart of Columbus Motel.

My friend Stan
cancels the plan
he's lost his heart.

And lost his taste
sniffs the cinnamon
endures the noisy morning.

Darkwood dances
under a grey muddled sky.
Stan limply flicks
honey stones
to his sweet muse.

A few more miles to Alabama,
another drop
closer to Hell.
Missy smiles out
the window of her room
at the Heart of Columbus Motel.

Hot silver stem
she smokes her curiosities
tumbling monkey shines.

China girl sings a TV jingle
blue eyed chattering
humming on his head.

One more dip
in her kissing booth
one more ring of roses across her bed.

A few more miles to Alabama,
another drop in the well.
Missy smiles
out the window of her room
at the Heart of Columbus Motel.

-Will Dockery