I get drunk. I tear down
Mountains,
Grab my father’s gun
And shoot up and down
...
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well paced and chocked-full of visceral sustenance. it's gonna take me awhile but now I'm going to have to read many more of your works. strong work, Robert. -Tailor
As usual, your poems grab my attention. I know it's your style, but this old English teacher still needs some punctuation! A nice graphic picture of the old drunken male story in another era.