now that there is
no financial
arrangement
there are
no letters
sailing up-country
from the land of
section 8 housing
someone must’ve
mentioned
that those out there
were anxious
to suckle
on words
traded years back
vis a vis
sinner to sinner
batted back and forth
table tennis ravings
from lost soul
to lost soul
i told an old poet
my tittie milk is all
dried up
for that sort
of adventure
he said
me too
i’ve completed
my journey
and now
i just
want
to rest
in my cranky
dullness
This morning
Up too early
Forcing eyes to focus
On your words.
I will soon enough
Complete the journey.
A boulder in the bottom
Of my belly,
A one-trick
pony,
waiting to see
If I can jump
Through another
Cranky hoop.