Monthly Archives: June 2017

The Billiard Bones Blues

Lee Nye played the sticks last night, Brought his musical pool cues he’d designed himself To demonstrate on my basement table. His bones, As he called them, were works of art, and as you might guess, The son-of-a-bitch could play. … Continue reading

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The Old Poet Sees the White Man

                       for Vic Charlo Two stools down, two white guys rebuild – sheet rock and tape – the house they’d worked on all day, tossing back pints of Miller beer. … Continue reading

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MY FELLOW AMERICAN

i do appreciate you my friend and your poems too   your directness is the key that honesty   will get your ass in trouble   dancing in the bullshit bubble of decorum   but you’re a poet just doing … Continue reading

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