Moonshine Love

overcome by a clarity of passion

a bathtub of dilated pupils that

show me my wet hair

passion that does not drug you

makes you clean in the ways that

dirt and water are healing

clean like the soul of someone

who thinks dirt can be clean

 

the kind that just lets you be.

wake up rested

without sleeping

doesn't consume

and yet consumes

whole big full

in

one

moment

 

you don't have to talk 'cuz

what are these words sometimes?

when the scent of you

reminds me

makes me

hill crazy familiar crazy rememberin' crazy

 

and still yin & yang

curtained over & under

our shoulders on

solid bluegrass ground

Two Truths and a Lie

If I were a waitress I'd keep

my tips in my pockets.

I'd have sex or aspire to be

forcefully taken advantage of

in the nighttime after my shift

just to hear heavy coins spilling over

and feather ones coming in

for a kiss with the ground

when hands peel off

my tight work pants.

If I were a drunken girlfriend

I'd have bruises on my face,

a swollen lip, and a

pushed-back front tooth

because I let men buy me shots

and then catapaulted myself

onto the ground after

warning others that

taking my drink away

would result in personal injury.

If the moon were to be

approaching fullness,

I'd have nightmares three nights

in a row about

my dad dying of lung cancer

and not being able to find

a hiding place for my weed

while driving.

I'd wake myself up

in the earliest hours

from clenching muscles and teeth

and giving myself a migraine

so I could resolve to change

my ways of cigarette smoking

and going commando.