I am well fortified with Bird Dog Whiskey. Against half my instincts I refuse the invitation of her summer blouse. In that moment I really don’t care if I live or die. We are all dancing on borrowed feet, the poet says. Even on a steaming summer night my heart knows there is nothing there but cold rain and snow.
We're the Ezine dedicated to all things barroom. We are slightly off what others consider the norm and always the last to close the bar. If you prefer the local dive bar to the glitz of some overpriced club then you're our kind of people. So welcome grab a drink and enjoy.
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Coal Miners 1933 By Arvilla Fee
In a little blues bar in a little blue town cigarette smoke encircled his head, a most unangelic halo, but he kept his eyes closed, lips p...
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near the on-ramp of I-10 in Crowley, Louisiana we unload our band equipment into the back of Gozzlebeck’s not the real name of the bar but a...
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Diamond hair Bathe in bourbon and butter You are my Sunday prayer You are everything You are all You are life Rita S. Spalding has had poem...
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lemonade hair dead and deflated thin like a bleached ghost; mascara rings fat as a star pitcher’s eyeblack; she cracked her broken finger ba...
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