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Tag Archives: Ben Read
When I die, I’ll leave my body here for you to dance around in socks on the floor of your home, tripping on the way to the bathroom where you scrub your eyes like attic windows before falling asleep. Remember … Continue reading
I’m playing basketball in the alley of two strangers, with painful laughter, as reckless as Uncle Jess at the bar of the Brown Derby in Garland head down with his hand around a drink, half-empty. The man, the whiskey— both … Continue reading
We are strange instruments, you and I. I have a harpsichord stuck in my throat, first inversion vocal chords, piano keys spelling out words in the letters of notes, minor and major arpeggios, and you, you are a saw, with … Continue reading
If I pulled over and got out and started walking, this old car would rust and winds that forgot to love their families, would eat away the engine like the foothills of the county. By the time all this happens … Continue reading
When you say The Byrds, you mean the folk rock band that sang about tambourines and loneliness. It was a cover. I hear the throaty call of a red-winged blackbird, slurred and vague like memories of ornithology field trips and … Continue reading
Wheat fields listen to broken violin strings, old car parts, discarded license plates spelling words and counting out old phone numbers. Tonight the moon looks like a baseball— stitches worn off from two brothers playing catch during summer blues festivals. … Continue reading