Jim Trainer


In Jim Trainer, Music, National Poetry Month, poem, Poetry on April 5, 2015 at 9:15 pm


lit the opium this morning
and black peppery smoke
split the air and swirled around me
like a foolish dream

I thought of Levine
squinting through sulfur flares
glaring at the sun on an
industrial Detroit morning
I could see Molina
sticking his thumb out for the last time
on the bridge out of Hammond

my heroes’ work
delicate, never precious
their scars never for show
they roamed far from Hollywood
and the price was always
too high for Heaven

a poem is the way of living
and a song the way of life
it’s why Molina was always leaving
beneath a blue Chicago moon
why Levine was always looking
for a white sun burning
beyond the towers, through the smoke

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