Thursday, October 8, 2009


I am tired of being a cripple,
can I get an Amen.
I don’t care if the moon landings fixed,
look where it took us.
Wine, cheap or not,
both end up piss.
Sure time slips away,
it brings us along for the ride.
I am a poet fueled by wine
and some real good pills.
The poets that I know,
that I really truly know,
ain’t all that far away.
We are grey but bright,
at ease with our words,
willing to let some things pass
because we’ve all been there.

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