There’s an old man sittin’ by The old canteen, his visions Are filled with the jingle, jingle Of his girl in red and grey The slow blink of his lashes Cause the cottonwoods to…

We sit up late under the red cedars and tell each other them long time ago stories You roll your cigarettes Sometimes we sing it becomes morning we are sober become drunk then sober…

Gonna make it over to that rail Gonna meet you there That cold bitch hollerin’ Though the halls The winds howlin’ from the Hills. She tells me it’s them Bears Calling me back I’m…

you are a jester and use the ash from my feet for your paint canvasses stretching across the grand salons you are so large and well known bloated and expanding in this dethroned roses…

“Hey, get yer’ red ass out here…” “- lost his job a few weeks ago,” “- can’t handle the vocables, don’t know why they can’t get that Sizzertail one either.” “Did I say that,…

Wherever you leave my Hollow bones, jackal and Hyena will know my name Twine my hair, shadow the Sun, sing your lullaby Of sweet lament Set sail in your caravel On a bed of…

Below the levy roads where she caught catfish With cornmeal, exchanged stories of bait Fetes, lead and blue moons Learned early the weight of daisies Nail your conviction to the wisdom wall Or black…