we'd did
under the weather-
ed ground
we'd did
under the weather-
ed ground
Did too
me tin
fly did rile
all ironed out tired,
tired iron,
turn the stone in me,
tumbler of whiskey.
Gone are the god days,
the doggone dog days,
gone godly are the daily gods,
doggedly, they go.
coax me toast
Oblige mature
a little lifeless nipping
joins us today
there's no real exchange
across the seven public seas
welcome my shadow of a chair
observed in a bar
blue in the cradle
unafraid in sleep
when day broke day
to keep a diary
distinguishing
what might have
happened
Wait I'm pulling
but there is no
conceivable
space
top-notch blues
veridical
in season
and soon
full mouth of grief
in bas-relief.