Friday, April 16, 2021

Moscato Blues by Tim Heerdink

Ah yea,
that’s that good, good shit
right there.


That’s that make you
wanna dance
to the invisible drum
shit.


Make you trip over
your lady
wind up
with another baby
type of swig.


Pour me another,
let’s needle the groove
& play Viticulture
‘cause I’m in the mood
kinda moment.


When the bottle
pours no more
grab another
instinct.


It’s fine.
I’ve got beers, too,
don’t worry about me,
mayne.


We’re all chill
& the world 
is good
no matter
if I can recall
the words I say.


At least I’m funny
not busting your face;
I just wanna play.


Fuck,
maybe I had
too much.


Shirt off
on the porch
losing lunch.


I return to the scene
the next day.


Goddamn possession
projectile vomit
didn’t quite stretch
to the grass;
the red resembles blood.


What a fool I’ve been.



Tim Heerdink is the author of Somniloquy & Trauma in the Knottseau Well, The Human Remains, Red Flag and Other Poems, Razed Monuments, Checking Tickets on Oumaumua, Sailing the Edge of Time, I Hear a Siren’s Call, Ghost Map, A Cacophony of Birds in the House of Dread, and short stories, The Tithing of Man and HEA-VEN2. His poems appear in various journals and anthologies. He is the President of Midwest Writers Guild of Evansville, Indiana.



No comments:

Post a Comment

A Tenement on Jones Street by David Painter

A string of clear rope lights hang overhead. “Those are stars,” she said. “We can’t see the real ones from here so these will have to do.” ...