June 1, 2009


by David Morton

i dont know what you are, dave,
i dont know what you are.
killed no giants
but dave i am
a david alive
born shy and fevered and nervous
grown shy and fevered and nervous
until the alco had come
tastin like the devil and
cutting the shy and the fevered and the nervous
until there is too much
and then cutting the stomach
bleared out dave
dave drinking and gone out.
talking dave.
talking to women dave.
goddamn you dave!
going out in the woods.
on the coldest day dave
and eyeing the animals dave
dave drunk and crying
failing dave
loving dave
to the bar dave
to drink and be dumb to nerve
to be dumb to worry
and thought and love
to drink and drink
until the head is on the table
and the bitches are screaming
the violent have whiskeyed
and pushing
and the past violents
look at their wives and kill away
their violence to these new violents
they smile off the violence
dave goes to the covered bridge
staggered and lonely
the moon on his pants and
dave dont want it on his pants
crying for the night and the dead
and the fuckers who live
who god thinks are the coolest
and i lay there in the nite
on the cold wooden bridge boards
damning myself to hell
with a murderous headache
because i had earlier
called god a fucker
i say that over and over
and my head hurts worse and worse
god punishing me
dave finally sleeping and waking and happy
nerves laid out on the hospital beds
yelling at the nurses
dave drinking coffee
dave visiting his grandparents
dave feeling awake but tired
dave feeling better knowing he
had heard the birds early and first in the morning


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