Peter Chapman Poetry

present tense

they got my DNA off a cup
after i'd been sent up
for shit i never done

i was out a week
when they got me again,
for things
they said i'd get to

a busload just went by,
giving me the slow treatment
i let go now, but once i woulda
jumped the bus
giving me that look like that

a beautiful red bird
in a tree like a color from mythology
sang a melody he'd sing anyway,
i had the fare or not

all day the sky was low enough
to taste like metal,
the weight of a joy
i wasn't sure i'd find
in a place
this frame of mind, like

being in a trance

people will say,
describing their fun
but how many really float that way?

on my boat, on the river
the watermen and birds and me,
so totally 18th century
something like a trance

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