I took my name off of the *****
donor registry. I don't wish to wish
myself on any-body. I'm a hard man
to live with, you see. You've seen
the way I treat(ed) my liv-er; any way.
Anyway...if you really want a piece
of me take my heart. Cigarettes and
women haven't yet ruined the best part.

Arthur Burning Arrow
had a lot of talent.
He could capture the salient
parts of the story.

He painted a picture
of a red  river
and the first White settlers
crossing the plains.

He took a lot of pains
with clouds you could feel.
Dust you could sneeze.
Tall grass up to a horse's knees.

Our teacher said
That's a horrific painting!
I thought it was terrific.

Just sayin.

I swear, all I could see
were burning wagons
for a thousand miles.

Time is a clock,
a face no-one forgets, a
stopwatch on a stiff wrist
beneath crisp white cotton,
a feral black cat in the woods
of adulthood that sneaks
up on you in your prime,

or something like that.

Shine on you blacknight
like the dark light of a dead star

deep as a black well
drawn from my memory

clear as a mirror
over the mouths of the dead.

Instead of a card
I carved you a pome
on my heart.

It didn't hurt too much
until I sewed myself up.

You see, I know
you'll never see
the words I bleed.

I've only got one bar
on my phone and there's only
one more between here and home.
Ten dollars in my pocket may as well
be a thousand. Like a penny
in the fusebox, I could make it last
until the lights go out. There's a cowboy
band playing. A wooden Indian
by the door. I don't think he listens
to their stories anymore. He's quiet
on the subject. He's quite an object
of curiosity. Instead of two-stepping
all night long, maybe I should take
that Indian home. Use the last bar
to call Coleen. Tell her to put a ***
of cowboy coffee on. We'll tell stories
of our own. Sing songs in the old way
about better days when we were young.

Lady in a gray dress
calling this a wintry mix

A coastal low with rain and sleet

I reckon so, but it sure seems
like the winter blues to me.