its thirteen years since i decided stoned
to write a poem a day
until i die or dont
& i havent died
& i mostly do
weekends off
some weekdays too
& typing up the meat weather
& the cracked prism shine
i showed me i was more
than a sponge for wine
& tho i write enough to post something daily
my blog is tired
& needs a redux badly
& sober now
as a coffin nail
i have evolved i think
from the cocktail wail
& it keeps me honest
like they say
this discipline
this writers way
& like Bad Clay
i now have books aired
so very many thanks
to the publishers who dared