30.9.09

a cock in hand is worth two in the bush (?)

and when the girls shake their feather dusters
it will all be for you
and their fathers they will cringe with moral superiority
and oh how the weak have flown
with babies
with incense
with bottles of jack
thirty-seven red reeds
dust and cobwebs on their weed cigarettes
with seventeen six-packs of beer ice cold
beer head bigger than Australasia
or Arkansas
or the jungle gym by the school
where he taught me that
breasts mean the world owes you
big time

6 comments:

An Unreliable Witness said...

Breasts.
Cocks.

Yep, best poem I've read about frozen chicken in a long time.

jereme said...

me likey

Chris East said...

my life

RC Miller said...

So much is right with this poem it kills.

Ani Smith said...

[making notes ... boys seem to like ... feather dusters ... buy ten ... pronto]

Ani Smith said...

Anybody else feel like featherdusters should be one word already?

Holy shit, that's RC Miller. I mean, hi, RC Miller.