Words flow four beers in
Poetry streams as water
Il write of my dad

Your friends all are poets
It's about truth I would guess
That raw jagged edge

Your ******* are eyes
I will try to mind manners

Where I'm from
Eye contact is considered
Very good manners

Her wrists are guitars
Playing the melodies of her voice

Your hands like old dogs
Familiar and strong and soft

Cement dump truck
Broken mind don't give a ****
About daydreams- half movie scenes
Reading veiled broken hearted threats
Feeling my chest
constricting
Ringing In my ears like at the punk show
You've always known I'm pretty dumb though
But il read it all
Saying "It's not as bad as it looks"
But I know il just be held in thrall
Reading your published poetry books
Bout how I nailed you to the freshly painted wall
Over and over and over
After the fall

Vain struggle
****** knuckles
Slow desperation
Fiddle
Mandolin
Devil Dancers