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Posted by on Mar 30, 2020 in Poetry | 0 comments

big muddy

big muddy

His libido wouldn’t let him be
So Big Muddy on his gurney prayed
Opened the grey exhausted craters of his eyes
Stared at the big sky and let the die
Cast across the cold white cloud
Dead today dead tomorrow but gliding
In the gleam of young metal pots
Hanging from hooks in search of tears
In search of any feeling Old Muddy could find
In the swirling cesspools in the pits of the mine

Big Muddy bragged to the napalm sky
Forty years of time is an eternity
Tide’s coming in
Tide’s going out
Winked at the girl on her bicycle
Sly tried to get away with a small dog and no other friend in town
And the Fury is blind mad at Big Muddy’s gold and sapphire ring
The rain dimples puddles
Rainbows of petroleum stretch
Across flat panel TVs watching himself bloom
Hans Castorp in the gallery
Teeth chattering while they drain his lungs
Of battery acid and axle grease

They bring out their dead and load the wagons
Slow turning rain to snow the gleam in his eye when Grace
Bends down to fix the strap of her shoe
Her mind is on a tear of worry
His libido won’t let him be
Old Muddy on his gurney
Still prays for pussy

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