Tuesday, June 30, 2020

New Poetry by Mike James

Leaving the Parking Lot of the Comfort Food Diner, West of Vegas 

Even when you don’t count highway license plates
Time passes at a constant rate. 
That’s ok. 
Most of what we see is meant to be erased. 

The desert is good at that. 
Wait long enough, sand erases every page. 
Drive far enough, nobody knows your name. 

- © Mike James 2020

Mike James makes his home outside Nashville, Tennessee and has published widely. His many poetry collections include: Journeyman’s Suitcase (Luchador), Parades (Alien Buddha), Jumping Drawbridges in Technicolor (Blue Horse), First-Hand Accounts from Made-Up Places (Stubborn Mule), Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog), My Favorite Houseguest (FutureCycle), and Peddler’s Blues (Main Street Rag.) 

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