That white girl’s
blues voice
covers
the green eyed crowd
Her honeyed delta thickness
takes us back
to our poor black days
and twelve-bar nights,
spent sky howling
and
back room crawling
Looking out for that devil we dealt with
down those Memphis crossroads
Wishing our blues history
extended past
safe college classrooms
and
warm cubicle wombs
wondering if
The hellhound would be proud
stewart i have been an admirer of this poem since the drafting board. a fantastic progression to the final product. the environment and atmosphere you have created resonates well after the last line has been read. your vivid imagery coupled with blues riff language makes this piece jive till last call. -lawrence
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