Gars as Big as Boats, Blood in the Mud.
With eyes like
Cameras
Spitting shuttering
Closing capturing
Moments
Lost forever in
Waves of murkish
Browns and blues-
While gars as big as boats
Beat on against the waves
Praying on fat bass
And blood
Is
Inking-
Drowning
My pen in currents
Of summer sun
Etching it's warmth
Onto my
Skin
Burning it
Lobster reds
And making hard to
Get out of
Bed.
A son
And
A father
Paddle like Vikings
Stroke
Stroke
Stroke
Faster! We must beat the
Clouds promising
Heavy rains
Which with it
Brings torrents of
Hunger
And I remember my
Brother
Eating nothing but bread
And mustard
Saying bologna
Is nothing but
Horse cock.
I remember my love
Who is suffering
Alone
Somewhere
Trying so hard
To
Make
It
Just another day.
But as the shadows
grow over
Ahead
I just pull my line
And toss it back
To the waves
Of brown and blood.
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