Welcome to Fresh Meat Fridays
Alright, so I’m a day late and a dollar short. Tell me something I don’t know.
Here at FMF, you will find my latest, uncut creations fresh off the fire-hot grill of my mind. These are poems that were written earlier in the week but which have not yet been workshopped/refined. I hope they will give you some idea of what goes on in the mind of a poet (or at least this poet) who is attempting to create a piece of art from the ether of artistic creation.
The 0300
Not sure what it is
about the 0300 hour
that causes such a stir
in my rectumless gut,
rousing me from my dreams
for the short, slipperless walk
to the can.
Perhaps it hearkens back
to my drinking days
when I’d awaken next to
the RR tracks as the 3am
freightliner barreled on by
on its southernly route,
or when the day laborers would
show up for their summertime
work in the strawberry fields,