Crippled Nuts and Barfly


If you want to reach me…I’ll be in the bar.

A distant poet.

I thought I would have out grown it.

The hunter.

The hunted.

A stool so formidable.

Slippery slopes so sly.

I almost fell for my own lies.


all those hostages with painted on mugs.

Just substitute teachers for love.


All that fanfare,

laying at my feet.

Not enough to complete.

Not enough to compete.

Crippled nuts,

shelled in a scrapped book.

Jukebox filled with communion thin…disagreeable sins.

In a picture viewer…just for one.

Seated at the right hand of one night stands.


Hearts inflection…enough to raise the grateful dead.


prayers to cosmic zeppelins.


in the end,

hail mary’s out of bedlam.

Altogether, tools in the great ascension.

Barfly destination…unknown.

A cankered zealot at home in the tow away zone.


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