Saturday, October 29, 2011

A GOOD HEART ( for Tom Marshall)




Handy in a fix I dash off
 and join a legion of honor 
divine of dishes served on spreads of bread best toasted

in a heat of passion locking

the jaws and ambient teeth
 squirreling away better roots for the future.



Yet the filial rifle I was given jams 
and again the walls are raging 
with the threat of new cracks upcoming, 
but there! those were not the remarks I was making.



The sands of tine clog my crank case,
anger rears its rumored beef, 
what was said gets twisted, 
and honor rolls over and plays dead.


Better I should have an oily complexion
 to ward off a future so rank, given the weather; 
I’d be busted for sure if my left boot knew 
where my right boot was tromping.