GD2
Amber smile beckons,
notebooks pile as lack
of job means time to
write. Moneyless is freedom:
a jail cell
to anyone else.
Great words pop
from jails though.
Weldschmertz a trifle
mosquito
buzz in the ear, to
he who continues
research: a good stick,
sommelier, lover of small
snow, large weeds
that fall and sprout in
Keene, that school
town in a
conservative state,
dependent on large
fossil heat
augmented by beer doses,
Turner’s oiled
merriment, emailed
epistles only
Kerouac
or Bukowski could ever
decipher
correctly. Genius
in old clothes, plod on.
24 June 2012
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