Trey Buck


I swear I saw my old friend, Trey Buck, ne' William Buck, sitting courtside at the Spurs v. Mavs game last night. I didn't get his forwarding address in my haste to leave Austin back in 2000, and now I can't track him down....and he never had an email address as far as I know.

which reminds me of this poem I wrote about him a few years ago...

Novelist (For T.B.)

 Write a few lines for the endless days
spent glaring back @ the wall's crevices
with the same vacant credulity as a courtesan

 speak quickly, without stuffiness, or hesitations
about the continual passing of moments
in heady solipsism
much like the legs of this chair
push fiercely at the wooden floor beneath them

 All of your motions are relegated to my caprice
or should I clarify? & insist upon my righteousness
and my continuous slumber?

 The bottle of wine empty,
and ever more beautiful
than when full of promises, and illusions
Now it is only vapor & amorous
dusky stains of midnight transports
twisting the sunlight green


It seems you read some of T.S. Elliot. This poem reminds me of The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock href="">click here

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This page contains a single entry by swanksalot published on December 1, 2004 1:03 AM.

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