I wanna be folk hero
but I can no longer handle the hangovers

I dont know a dam thing about blacksmithing
but
falling off a trailer comes easy
screeching out free bird with Randy
waiting for a limb to heal

the pain killers kick in before breakfast
and a lecture on religion leaves me

laying stiff in the morning dew
my broken foot still broken
the scent of pine still kicking with
my fathers jab in the ribs

I wanna be a folk hero
and I came dam close

last summer
my center torn from night
summer
the orgin and mother of everything
summer
with me in my yard
its many manifestations
a mirror to nature
held under small oak
mirror to excess
mirrors in farmhouses
where light
gives shapes and waves
of joy
from other suns shadows
and from other farmhouses

I wanna be folk hero
but I can no longer handle the hangovers

I dont know a dam thing about blacksmithing
but
falling off a trailer comes easy
screeching out free bird with Randy
waiting for a limb to heal

the pain killers kick in before breakfast
and a lecture on religion leaves me
stiff in the morning dew
my broken foot is still broken
the scent of pine still kicks in the ribs

I wanna be a folk hero
and I came dam close

last summer
my center torn from night
last summer
the orgin and mother of everything
last summer
with me in my yard
its many manifestations
a mirror to nature
I held in my yard
mirror to excess
giving shape in waves
from sun

dark dark green native light
pours from itchy boring timber thicket
the kind of evil that feels good
the kind of poems that whine
and convey whiny ass bitchiness
but still reach out far into the boring mountains
the poor farm house
and my cottonwood