TRUSTED TO MANY SKINNY GODS
Got another story to paint
 Dylan has not written the last sunset
she smiled from a tombstone scene
mixed with missing smiles
another teardrop on the salty grave
missing all those songs
that we hung
on cocaine lines
as love sank its borrowed head in the barrel
blessed on the vine
each day death dressed as the dancer
me a lie that died
such as the shell
which survives
move my soul through a mystic kiss
crashing on blossoms static lip
crowded swaying forest
who brought the rope
won in the poker game
sung as the choir choked
shotguns limping home
following the drinking shame
heaven sits on the porch
blues and glass jar sisterhood
how much broken bone
can I place
on this winning course
caught God writing
on the toilet wall
miss spelling my name
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