poetry corner

Hey guys, somebody somewhere sometime mentioned that there needs to be yet more, plain as day, dried in the mud, poetry posted on this new-fangled blog bla, so here's a poem I just wrote. Hotcha!


untitled 4775


San Antonio
was
made

by bored and sober gods

clearing
their

bookshelves of
texts they’d
accumulated as undergrads


and how they bit their
tongues
and
rained down the river
that

twirled and twirls;

smoke and ash
Mercado
shake

gringos and
delicate lapels

and
radio inlays
tattoo wrists