Saturday, July 9, 2011


these fingers
that hold this drink,
curved with appetite and misdirection,
feel lonely tonight.
In each man
trumps tempo,
stars adjust in heaven and
mistrust their master.

when love escapes
the roots of springtime,
when hell is passed down
like water
to a drowning child,
all becomes forgiven.

I'm betting on the singing fools,
memorizing their music-
la da da dee da, la daa dee da

these notes
extend past the blueness
of the horizon,
fold back in on themselves,
muffled by the beauty
of the song.
I am puzzled by the nature
of everything,
especially the cool wisps
and the long cup goodbyes.

I think there's a chance
that I love you,
you started up this hill
and carried me to the top,
and the view is absent
without you
in the

poem by Mick Tomlinson


  1. Sometimes you are easy to read. Sometimes you are not.

  2. HEY! I started to read another one, but now its gone. :-(

  3. I know, sorry about that. Major revisions needed for that one.

  4. Why did you inherit the deepest part of me? I hope it doesn't trap you forever in a world of lonely solitude & migraines. Keep the alcohol handy, and stay off the weed. Love you deeply & forever. It's a shame we could not have met life as friends instead of family - we would have been the perfect match!!!

  5. For those of you wondering... yes, that is in fact my mother telling me to lay off the weed. Haha! I love you mom!


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