hobos blow their noses while boxcars roll on slowly
an image of a hard time past. gathered crops for
harvest.
And in earnest I have collected roses
smiled like dead heads left baking in the sun.
And in the dead of night in bed clutching my gun.
i find sleep fitfully in small doses.
May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 8:47 PM UTC
hobos blow their noses while boxcars roll on slowly
an image of a hard time past. gathered crops for
harvest.
And in earnest I have collected roses
smiled like dead heads left baking in the sun.
And in the dead of night in bed clutching my gun.
i find sleep fitfully in small doses.