heroin spoons

poetry

heroin spoons

ice glazed in
grass

cat piss white
t-shirts

from
smoothing edges
to
running
from
police

notes to yourself
reminding yourself
that you are not
being
your self

perplexed by
that concept
you ignore your
old friend

stems

giving up by
sitting down

a man made of
mist and a man
made of stone are
yelling at eachother
on your television,
you cannot
turn
it
off.

because if your sole purpose in life is to produce cotton and you don’t – consider your life a failure

poetry

whether you are aware or not
my ability to write
epic poetry of love and life
has been reduced
to that annoying little whine
coming from the breaks of a ’57
chevy station wagon
stacked with a whole house’s
worth of furniture
mattress
desk
rocking chair and all
up to the top of the
cottonless cotton tree

and almost as sad