Higher Ground

by on February 26, 2013 :: 0 comments

I want to write poems
the way fat old guys
in Dixieland days
played the banjo,
hard and strong

rhythm like a fast foot tapping
on the soil
teasing the plants
to grow a little faster,
a little higher

– don’t you want to get up
and taste
that fat old sun?

editors note:

Just like a two-handed, chin dripping bite of a hot pork sandwich. Yes!! Damn right, I do! – mh

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