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The Poetry of JO Janoski
Piano
Man
Pencil fingers stretch across a keyboard
ocean
to tickle obstinate rough edges
of this earthly spinning globe
while his melodies all chip-chopped
with words gasp for breath
in a moody cigarette fog
as his determined digits pound
his misery
and piano man's dagger eyes
slice through his attending adoring fans
who cling to still softness on his worn cap
or black fuzzy beard for comfort
where, alas, none can be found
since piano man never apologizes.
Night
Terrors
Alone as the clock ticks
I stretch on my bed
drenched by full moon radiance
frigid as icy murmurs
as ghosts go swishing in snow.
But what interest have I in ghosts?
As ghosts go swishing in snow
frigid as icy murmurs
drenched by full moon radiance
I stretch on my bed
alone as the clock ticks.
Copyright JO Janoski
For more from Jo visit her columns:
February, January,
December, November,
October; and her poetry:
February, January,
December, November,
and October. Or her
online home.
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