Weir’s Beached


barren bone 3

 

Barren and bold

Stone cold bone

Alone soot from a sodden stove.

 

Shook the itch…

that conclusive bitch.

She felt like poison ivy with a nervous twitch.

 

Left by itself

it could have passed,

as a vacant father’s vacant past.

 

Some beaten Beatnik, however,

rode along.

Placing passion with an off beat song.

 

Smoked by grass and distant cat fights.

And liberally located ink-ed nights.

 

Don Quixote plus Don Juan plus a two-legged motored steed.

Rambling Rose meets Dirty Deeds.

 

Grasping at compassion everyday...
Grasping at compassion everyday…

 

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