Poetry by Shlomo Franklin

// Dogs of Delaware County // 

I hear distant dogs obeying the command of the midnight hour
I hear spring peepers and the highway with too many cars and not enough people
Every sedan carries a lone passenger, an imaginary backseat driver, and an empty seat where a lover once sat
The seat belts don't work and the headlights are too bright
I'm tired a new kind of tired
There are buildings and bombs and everything else is useless
Falling by the wayside and empty handed
I am branch on ground
Broken and bruised and rotten
No insides just hot air balloon hell and impedance
She's nothing and she knows it
I think she's everything in the whole entire world
She's the world to me
She's bigger than everything and I can't stand it
I can't seem to be anything at all in her presence
Unless she says I'm something
But she never says enough
And there I go
A cold blooded mule walking down the road alone and unemployed
There I go
Off to the auction
Off to my future with nothing to show for it
Just rotten eggs and bad memories
Dirty mattresses and worn out bathrobes
Toothbrushes and second-hand pajamas
Short of breath and dead-end kisses
I've been walking forever in these shoes
I'm a shoemaker's nightmare
I'm everything without her and even less when I'm with her
She's not mine but I'm hers
She's a thousand miles tall and here I am being nothing but a cobblestone
One in a million
Letting the world walk all over me
At least she's among those idiots
Pure in heart and taller than the pine trees they've been cutting down for firewood and for fun






// Vermont Arthouse Hellish Afterparty // 


Oh the angst of my aching back with stacked up winter sweaters
You sit cross-legged on the floor behind sofa you found on the street outside your ex-best friends house
There's your blanket and blouse all tangled like tangerines in a sunlit dream in Bahama billionaire private villa suite 
All secrets keeping themselves
And then here I am, arm in hand and head in cloudy portrait on back wall billows smoky silhouettes

Oh spirit writing goddess swiftly riding across universal paths of ecstasy in imaginary dreamlike alleyway conversations
Mutual friends with strangers and boulder Colorado Buddhist temple terra plane blues 
God bless this fucked up place with her holy shops and heroin epidemics ignoring holy war tranquility center for arts and narcissism 

All poets a little gay working at corner cafe riverside ritual township in backward historical district delight upon my arrival at the end of an affair had with New England territorial parties that go all damn night with hands up and letting go and letting go again 
Oh I love them all 
I miss them 
All the people
With their faces
Eyes lips hair hats music guitar abilities dreams and talk of blues and banquets for Jesus and witch doctor aphorism 
Spiritual healers making out with me in melancholy mutual agreements dancing on mattresses above head with period blood stained panties and a heart full of confetti phantasies 






// Farewell to Folly // 


I breath in heavy like a bulldozer up against a pile of gravel 
The season is spring but it might as well be summer 
I keep expecting the leaves to be up and running by the time I walk outside but alas most of the trees are still naked and their bark still tattooed and shrunken like an old bartender in a Scottish wool sweater. 

When sad one rarely feels anything in particular
Seems like staring at a creek or something would do me good
I've been to two rivers today, a pond, three lakes, and four waterfalls. 
All of them kept going without noticing me
I was hoping the waves would take me with them
Wash me away to someplace special 
Maybe a carnival or a circus or a wedding or a funeral 
Anywhere but here
I looked upon the grass eagerly
Expecting it to grow in my gaze
I watched the faded brown leaves that looked like shredded cardboard boxes flow freely across the damp field
I didn't answer my phone
I couldn't be bothered
Didn't want to talk to her
I knew she didn't have any good news and my heart was much too heavy for anything serious
I wished she knew this
I couldn't help but notice my disappointment in her 
Didn't she know who I was and how I was feeling? 
Why didn't she get in the car, come over, and hold me until the birds stopped chirping for the night? 
Why didn't she know I was two hundred miles away from goodness? 
Why didn't she see my narrow eyes and my tired back?
I didn't understand it all
I was astounded 
She could move mountains if she wanted, couldn't she read my mind too?
Surely it can't be too difficult. 
I'm an open book and she's a genius.
What else can you ask for?

The wind whistled a flat tune against the grey brown hills. 
I sat in unsolicited solitude anticipating something of a foreign era 
Future or past I couldn't tell
I knew today didn't have much for me anymore 
I decided to end it with her 
She was up in Nashville all the time anyway and didn't like to take the bus
I'd send her the seashell sculpture I picked out for her while on tour in Texas and send her my last thoughts and close the book. End the chapter mid sentence without even 





// River Gurl // 


Like a dog in a kennel I want what I cannot have 
And so I want you more than ever
Want you like a story book wants to begin again
Need you now on Lake Superior looking across the shimmering spring haze
Want you to take it off and swim 
Swim with me in deep water blue
Want you
Like in autumn 
Want you in the cold water on hot day 
Listening to the birds sing blues ballads about murder & love 

Want my finger to run a marathon across your back
Round your pelvis 
Up your spine 
Across the street 
Over the bridge 
Down to the water
Inside you 

I want you now 
Holding you against me
Around your waste 
I want my fingers down your throat 
Take it off
Nothing between you and me
Just skin
And your little lips and your worn in fingertips
Cause you build houses
Like a real woman
You garden 
You work hard
You drink too much 
You avoid your father
You're a good listener 
You call me at two AM on the dot
You have bad reception 
You invite me over
I don't cum 
You give up on me and move on and I miss you 
I wreck your house and sleep in your bathtub 
I miss you more than ever
I want you to drive over and let me buy you lunch and watch you take off your pants on the shoreline 
Let the sun make your hair look like a forest fire
Throw pine branches to your dog 
Make him go away so I can kiss you good enough 
Eat you out in the promised land breeze 
Want you now 
Now that you don't want me anymore
Only want you when I'm lonely
And when you're walking away
Pull you back and take you from behind 
Make you moan like the melting mountains 
After the thaw 
Make you take me home and cook me up something vegan
Watch you dive in the lake while I tread water
You're much braver than I am you know 
You're older than I am and know more
You care a lot 
I care too 
I'm not good at showing it
I'm the guy who offers to clear the dishes once the tables empty
I don't mean to be late to the party 
Only I walk slowly and carefully 
I don't like tripping 
I don't like people 
I love them and that's enough 
All you need to know is if our paths do cross again 
I'll be more honest 
I'll say I want to see you but I want to go slow 
I'll say I care about you but I can't go to Colorado 
I'll tell you you're beautiful 
I'll tell you you're beautiful 
And say you're the prettiest tree in the forest and that's enough 
I'll shut up and won't feel the urge to say more if I don't feel like it
Won't try filling in the blank
Won't tell myself you want more of me than I can possibly obtain 
Won't say anything 
I'll say less and mean more
I'll tell you you're fucking beautiful 

I'll be myself and you'll respect that 
I'll go home sometimes 
I'll be alone a lot 
I'll be with you on good evenings 
I'll be yours sometimes
I'll be mine all the time
You'll be mine too 
I'll be your friend and not send you this letter now
Make sure it gets lost in the mail
Won't meddle in your new life
Will let you move on and respect you for it

Won't buy you a drink tonight 
​

Bio: Shlomo Franklin is a singer/songwriter from Bethel, NY. He plays guitar, writes music, and performs original songs. 

​www.shlomofranklin.com/
​shlomofranklin.bandcamp.com/

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