Maybe I’m someone Or maybe I’m not A tree falls in the forest And the roots start to rot And my lady she loves me Whether I like it or not I’ve got all that I need I’ve got all that I’ve got It’s too early for peaches And it’s too late…

Sunday morning, no such luck My head is dizzy, it’s bright as fuck I’m dying I make my way to south French broad Lumbering wondering where she’s gone or something I see Sam he’s in the same shape as me Bundled in funneling misery by the…

Spinning like the wheel Painted on the temple Does the wheel turn slowly Or is it me that moves? I can count the hours And I can name the prophets Kept like silver spoons Struck like wooden matches Should I call it sleep or divine…

When the sun sets over high mountains it doesn’t get dark When the valley cools in in the evening the crinoline bark Strike a match on the stone hearth flickering light for the fire I watch the blue ridge violet hue ridge fade in the night…

Bait on the hook A curse on the town We laugh like coyotes And cry just like clowns It scrubs off of our fingers A little elbow grease and there it goes Bones in the garden Pitchfork in the hay Mice in the cupboard It’s written all…

A footnote A highlight Soft words from the podium Modest compression A Turkish delight And a Bic from the gas station Cold calls Non-binary Waitlist university Gen-Z in a Big Dog t-shirt No drugs, no society No sex, no anything Just…

What did we give away for the things we have? I don’t see any place I haven’t been before But the faces I hold in my mind when I’m drifting off to sleep Are as free as anything could be When all the dollar stores have vanished in the flood…