the ways of the wind
this wind
said chico lopez
darting an arm
from his serape
to spoon from a bowl of frijoles
spent
last night with icetrue
belched beltran oviedo
over his beer
but now the sun’s
got its dick in her
she’ll soon
lie quiet
Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
the ways of the wind
this wind
said chico lopez
darting an arm
from his serape
to spoon from a bowl of frijoles
spent
last night with icetrue
belched beltran oviedo
over his beer
but now the sun’s
got its dick in her
she’ll soon
lie quiet