8/1/18 12:06AM
i’d dive graciously in puddles of mud
if there were any rain in this town
the soil is all loose
and the girls are too
when the thunderstorms roll round
chirping flies and miles come
bearing horseradish travelers,
cobras and adders
they seem to steal my crop
noises at midnight now
are chortles and whines
as you swallow the time
it’s all gone back to bugs
fuck the readers and
the miserable deceivers
that grow in babbling brooks