I Picked At An Appetizer

three sheets to the wind
the late afternoon in bedclothes

Well, I suppose
I might compose
to foreclose
that sore thumb
cliché that leads

but how about a hand
for the bleeding edge
that suggest your appreciation
for the anachronistic atmospherics
is more nail than hammered

it’s intoxicating…
trusting one’s audience-
and that barkeep’s pour
when drinking one’s lunch

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Fluvial

  The days though far from lazy accomplish little and afford no insight excepting to insist might makes right and the meek shall inherit nothing ...........