Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Feature: Jim Benz Day 4

old bones

when you touch me
It feels like whiskey
on my tongue
at the back of my throat
burning in my gullet
I feel

as if I'm seven again
before all the bad stuff
and my gear box
grinds itself
into a mess
of loose screws

but don't be mistaken
you're a good thing
like Professor Longhair
pounding out a ragged
bloody, lived-in elegance

it's late
too late
I feel rheumatic
locked in a vice grip
I can hardly
let alone thrust

I blame the bastards
lurking in my genes
fooling around
in the graveyard
digging up bones
just to smash them

© Jim Benz
[Note: previously published in Spry Magazine]


  1. for me it was flat tires i was at the gas pumps too often just to air a flat they yelled me away when they saw me coming :-)

  2. This thing grips you in its own here-and-now. A compelling piece of honest existence. The ancient bone dance: grinding, pounding, a Saint Saens skeleton absurdly performing.

  3. I liked the honesty of this too.. It is very immediate.