Draw me another, holy spigot jockey, and another,
More,
Adorn the space in
my twelve-ounce mug.
Splash a blessed solution on
my Sunday AM head, soothe the ebbing tributaries of my
my tattered
Soul, pump that
Sense-bound (not really heart-shaped)
Cheaply-clad source. I have no new suit of
clothes to boast, nor sins to boast, content to find
Sportscenter behind the bar and central heat—ahh- central heating,
flushing toilet, & a full mug.
At church they- incensed- coldly damn my
Life, pray for death, for ever &
Ever. Amen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lovely write cretan.