Poem: Bourbon and Donuts

At Cafe du Monde we sat with coffee
laughing at the drunks stumbling
their way through Jackson Square
while we smiled liquid grins dripping
with booze, lust, and powdered sugar
our own visions swirling in porcelain masks

Poem: Blues Man

His dark and weathered skin
Might be older than the street itself
Deep set eyes that have watched
As ages have come and gone
Fingers swollen with arthritis
Yet they move like a young man’s
When dancing along brass valves