A Brief Statement of Intent

Standard

… And just what the fuck
exactly does the fog know?
Poetry flows just as easily
from my pine-scented beard.

Both horizons sneer upon
my arrival, but I’ve come with

only one intent – survival,
ya needle mouth motherfuckers.
So tuck whatever complaints
you had securely in you-know-

where. A languid stare could kill
just as easily, and at a lower price.

Suffice it to say, the head fled
the shoulders for colder climes.
And me with my dime bag,
a snag in the fabric.

-r. miller

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s