Written by Stewart Acuff
Writing and writing and reading for
Time is stuck
It wants to move
God knows I want the hour hand to catch the
Speed of the minute hand if not the second hand
Now I remember the warm glow of vodka or
But that all gone forever, best be forgotten.
It will be forgotten.
Just a sleepless night. Means nothing.
Sleep good tomorrow
not second hand
I went 37 years drinking myself to sleep
Not no more though. Them days and nights
Are buried now
Pulled out the majestic Carl Sandburg and pretended I could hear him sing his poems that are songs.
Saw the streets be walked on–hell–with you, Carl.
Wish I could be at Flat Rock with you, but this will have to do.
I’ll show you where Ol Abe almost got killed before he and Grant and Sherman won the war.
Please God don’t deliver that on this land again.
© Creative Commons Copyright 2012Tags: acuff, poem, poems, poetry, prose, stewart acuff