Blue healer
A catbird sings
And I spin a dance
I’m Lisping branch to branch
For loving these days
I’m Crossing Soaked Plains
To Nevermind
And your Redheads
caught round the ankles
I'll Never mind those loving cries
I’ll Ring them out in little puddles.
I’ll Never mind
And I'll never mind
those girls from Lancaster.
Touched clean in the basement.
Clarified
Because my blue healer,
he follows.
And he minds me well.
So I’ll never mind
Quickly
I don't mind
that it's against the law
but if you kill me
please
kill my dog
my horse wins and so does Lily's
Buried your face for
the length of a summer
pulled my hair
for a smile
Rode so long
turned blue to the saddle
Go on,
Mildmay,
walk it off.
It's seven to five.
I'll fix you some dinner
Abilene
I’d be above it
this
split screen
But you’re
prone
You’re a
sight
You’re a
weathered target.
Turn Abilene,
you’re posing.
And Now?
You’ve spun.
I tell you,
Abilene.
I’d like to
drop my shells.
I’d like to
burn out
idle spirals
too controlled,
to be of interest.
Kansas in miniature
I've been downbound
eating pigmeat in a t-shirt
Getting caught by
costumed guides
killing desert flowers.
Remember
sleeping together
by the
lonesome river
Flying
Lycra Kites
cut from the valley floor
Mounting
muscadine skins
in the foyer
Baby,
how long
til you sweat it out
Tidewater Prophecy
The fan
in the next
room
It’s humming
doom doom doom
It was deepwoods
My splintered pines
are ribbon-bound
in blistered tarps
for fading towns
to busy mills,
great yellow clouds
Washouts (for John 'Trapper' Tice)
Watch them
washouts
Them
tidewater-tumwater
Mic’d up
deer fuckers
Watch their
kill blinds in primetime
floodlight
We are plastered on the construction site
Today and Yesterday
Sister,
will we gather
your car-crash litter
or let it glitter
through the trees?
If I walk the woods to
Country Liquor
I’ll surely cut my feet.
Nice detritus
Pressed and pinned
careless
all you fasten falls
nods away
Gracie
it is too late
Low country
Your high horse
did the two-step
Crushed the grass
where I was layin
But you know
I’m from
the low country
where we
dance dry
where we
we shiver under
the full sun.
Where I was born
I'm still on
the trampled ground
I can’t get into it
And I can't help
rolling in your shit
c u downstream
For you
my limbs
through rivers
drag
my fingers
trace the bed
For you
I’ll go
two breaths deep
I’ll feel you
to my end
your 4x4
You’d turn me out
for full teeth, spliced hands
for roman candle vignettes
for simulated driven snow
for land
You’d turn me in
for less
Tomorrow drips on
The punched-in basin
is gone
is drips on pavement