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For Uncle Jim
a butterfly headlights the branches of your voice, displays that poets palate a pendant of lemons & limes, aptly young and vibrant, yet sweet and sour: the acids of life blended in amongst your vices, the rotting tooth, the cankered lip O you could not know: small hoofed-like-deer too slept in ashes of a tethered orb were we to unite never in agon it would should be within their soft light Lo mine shine back up now down flashing while yours Ha! stall over your Ohio, dusty, tired, almost peripheral at this late hour sonic booms announce the parade! ants crawl for the cracks her muddy waters churn as though you were still here mincing with the misses sipping Kentucky or just pissing in our gutters
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