Monday, September 7, 2015

Gravel over Rock

Gravel over Rock

Deadbone humor... broke-mirror ghosts...
black sunshine on the moon,
concussions... hemorrhages ahead...
if cheap-luck doesn't change.

Almost night... goddess-headed
sagebrush comes alive with rising coyotes.

You are kicked over sober
these months... manic note taker,
mailer of crumple-corner postcards.

Shot glass of bourbon skipped,
you thin-slice a banana... top it
with midnight's whipped cream.
Seventy, you claim you're youngish?

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