Your friend, the writer, needs groceries:
kale wine ground beef potatoes beer bread
bourbon spaghetti & sauce gin rum ham
mayo absinthe milk Snickers fish sticks
vodka scotch rye ayahuasca peyote
weed and Spam.
Your friend, the writer, needs readers
love hate notice explication a good woman
a bad woman a dog a cat a publisher
an editor and a bookie with a heart.
Your friend, the writer, needs a priest
a rabbi a hooker a nun a Smith and Wesson six shooter
fifty boxes of shells a dozen Spanish orphans
a plot of land and a shovel.
Your friend, the writer, needs earthworms
pickles shears rope caviar statues of Napoleon
poison pens cigarettes laughter and bombs.
Your friend, the writer, needs your wife
your daughter your blood skin bone flesh
muscle soul a quick nap a good night’s sleep
a beating heaven and hell.
Your friend, the writer, sends his regards
confusion congratulations regrets condolences
phobias love ambivalence spleen and contagion.
Your friend, the writer, wanders in
wanders out stares at the ceiling
bites his fingernails scratches his ass
smells his fingers yawns and giggles
stares at the mailbox
tries to remember your name
and doesn’t write anything at all.
kale wine ground beef potatoes beer bread
bourbon spaghetti & sauce gin rum ham
mayo absinthe milk Snickers fish sticks
vodka scotch rye ayahuasca peyote
weed and Spam.
Your friend, the writer, needs readers
love hate notice explication a good woman
a bad woman a dog a cat a publisher
an editor and a bookie with a heart.
Your friend, the writer, needs a priest
a rabbi a hooker a nun a Smith and Wesson six shooter
fifty boxes of shells a dozen Spanish orphans
a plot of land and a shovel.
Your friend, the writer, needs earthworms
pickles shears rope caviar statues of Napoleon
poison pens cigarettes laughter and bombs.
Your friend, the writer, needs your wife
your daughter your blood skin bone flesh
muscle soul a quick nap a good night’s sleep
a beating heaven and hell.
Your friend, the writer, sends his regards
confusion congratulations regrets condolences
phobias love ambivalence spleen and contagion.
Your friend, the writer, wanders in
wanders out stares at the ceiling
bites his fingernails scratches his ass
smells his fingers yawns and giggles
stares at the mailbox
tries to remember your name
and doesn’t write anything at all.
Jeff Weddle is a poet and writer living in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. He won the 2007 Welty Prize for Bohemian New Orleans: The Story of the Outsider and Loujon Press, and has also received honors for his fiction and poetry. Jeff teaches in the School of Library and Information Studies at the University of Alabama.
Your friend, the writer, loves this poem!
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