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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,