17 July 2006
missing, and a river of bottled nite
she lay back
on th summer grass
and tipd her head
back.
i askd her if
she was all ready
in her summer
dress, and
she said, no.
she propd herself
up on th blanket
on her elbows
and tipd her head to th stars, and
i pourd some from th bottle of jack daniels
down her lips.
and askd her if
she was ready, and in th silence
listend to th rush of th peace
river.
she said,
no.
i heard a rustle in th bushes
and told her it was a bear,
but she didn’t believe me and I took th bottle
of jack and tipd it back.
i pourd some on her lips and askd if she was ready but she said, not yet.
raven, purple in th moon and
dark wingd on my shoulder, but
thots of her man
known as chief was far
in th back of my head.
and off a nearby bridge i heard him call her name
into th river.
as good as a preacher and
twirld th beads on her necklace
along th eyes of a madman.
so i leand over and up liftd
her flower dress
a little bit
and brushd th fair stubble on her
thigh.
on th flannel blanket
th wilderness kissd us already for hours
and th stars were just over
tips of birches as she archd her neck
to th call of my jack and down some on her lips,
and I askd her if she was ready
and as th rush of th river ran usin th’air, yes, she warbled.
and into her pools i went, wearing th headdress
of th wild.
on th summer grass
and tipd her head
back.
i askd her if
she was all ready
in her summer
dress, and
she said, no.
she propd herself
up on th blanket
on her elbows
and tipd her head to th stars, and
i pourd some from th bottle of jack daniels
down her lips.
and askd her if
she was ready, and in th silence
listend to th rush of th peace
river.
she said,
no.
i heard a rustle in th bushes
and told her it was a bear,
but she didn’t believe me and I took th bottle
of jack and tipd it back.
i pourd some on her lips and askd if she was ready but she said, not yet.
raven, purple in th moon and
dark wingd on my shoulder, but
thots of her man
known as chief was far
in th back of my head.
and off a nearby bridge i heard him call her name
into th river.
away blowin.
exhaled something abtas good as a preacher and
twirld th beads on her necklace
along th eyes of a madman.
so i leand over and up liftd
her flower dress
a little bit
and brushd th fair stubble on her
thigh.
on th flannel blanket
th wilderness kissd us already for hours
and th stars were just over
tips of birches as she archd her neck
to th call of my jack and down some on her lips,
and I askd her if she was ready
and as th rush of th river ran usin th’air, yes, she warbled.
and into her pools i went, wearing th headdress
of th wild.
# posted by hardyf : 01:00
