Circling the Wagons

McGuffin’s got nothin’

but to propel

this darn

campfire yarn

done spun

from

a deserted 

ice cream party

at the Just A-OK Corral.

Thumb and finger

circling back around.

Your release

to the great halfpipe

in the sky

consequently coincides

with the remastered

Tony Hawk Pro Skater.

Games we used to

play

at being adults

someday, having to grow up

yet

let

it languish

for twenty-some 

odd years.

360°

circles back around.

Hanging back, you

duck out early

as was your habit.

No need to be the center of attention:

that was Bob’s job.

Puff, puff, pass.

It’ll circle back around.

Longing 

to pick it back up again

where we left off

nostalgia

welcoming

with open arms

carrying me

drunkenly

to sober up

in the pokey.

The missing windows

of last night’s 

bar fight,

whites 

in my beard

stragglers no more

reflected in 

the boarded up plate glass

you escaped from.

Rowdy crowd

circling around back.

Awake

and baked,

the hardpan

blazing already

at this time of day.

Feet of clay

I didn’t think

I’d have been caught

in this time-sink

drink tank

quicksand

of a calamity

I’d never prepared for,

dusting off these

trailing 

wailings

dry gulch parched

and perched

a vulture

waiting 

for my demise

circling back around.

Circling the Wagons first appeared in Daily Drunk Mag’s “Nostalgic AF: A Video Game Anthology”

edited by Nick Olson

You can read the rest of the poems here

Or you can support the poets by buying it here

Wishful Thinking

Saturday he took his life

pray tell me where did he take it?

Straight to the Potter’s Field

was as far as he made it

wish the songs

hadn’t all been sung

or better yet

find some way to right my wrongs

cause the road is long

and it’s twisty back and forth

I’ll sing this song

your life’s much more than you think it’s worth

can’t wish you back, can’t wish you back

He went out afield a-hunting

not knowing what he was searching for

could’ve all been wrapped up in bunting

but woahoh he wanted more

finally finding out

what it’s all about

and I know

I don’t want no more

the road is long

and it’s twisty back and forth

I’ll sing this song

your life’s much more than you think it’s worth

can’t wish you back, can’t wish you back

To Write: Love in Her Arms

Your testament
is written here,
not for the cause
that I want to please you
but because I’m pleased
to want you.

Indelible ink
tattooed into my
veins, flooded
with the permanence of
your love

not to bring pain,
only the attention
to self, me
that I so greatly desire
above all things.

Unsure of which
direction to go,
sinews connecting the
horizontal and the

v
e
r
t
i
c
a
l

do not adjust your television set,
they must deem me crazy.

Slipping under
hot and cold
make no matter, either
way works just
as well.
It’s the sensitivity
to the pain
I’m losing

a cry for help
can’t say it
any other way.
God, how I plead
for an escape.