The bearded men look up from their ale like leprechauns from a pot of gold, astale fish somewhere in the back roomA Taiwanese tourist takes a picture of Departure Bayand the boats and local residents hoisting long poles from the floating dock.Ham hock or hot dog, Dept. of Revenue 4718.
Author: Benjamin Spencer
Now I’m hunched over a typewriter, I guess you call it painting in a cave…
Short Poem No.28
He spent one full lifetime building the cabin I will die in,though die not if for your existence, as painful as it is, I know it could be worse, I could not be here at all.What does this mean for us? You ask like she wants to hear you say it. Would you get up … Continue reading Short Poem No.28
Short Poem No.27
When he went to sleep the world was fair, the countryside was bare and the bear’s, well, they were just bears, not a symbol, not aknock-kneed peckerwood’s front yard statuette. - A front yard’s like a man’s face, you got to keep it clean, “Now, hell, I ain’t got two silver dollars. Ain’t even got … Continue reading Short Poem No.27
Short Poem No.26
Giddy because of the sweet thing she holdsunder the lights beneath the howling The scoop goes up, the scoop comes downWaffle cones and green beer,one day before your birthday
AMERICAN WINE WRITER 