BLUE JEANS SONG: poetry

denim jacket

symbol of america

tell me a postcard arrives

where it’s supposed to

you’ll find me

barely moving upstairs

having neighbors like this

never cream or sugar

hospital bills, loans, disposed credit cards

mail I shred before I open

I don’t give a damn about bills!

screw self-esteem

I’ve been through this too many times

to wear the same old blue jeans.

c. 2016 A period of ill health.

Reading poet Lorine Niedecker inspired me to write my own “folk poems.” The voices of them walk the streets of downtown Portland; trail the echo of empty stairwells, living within sickness, poverty and isolation.

I still see my poems— in all sections of the city, now. Haunted lore persists. We just wear different faces.