AMERICAN POEM #2
Every day is 4 a.m. Every day is wet autumn. Every day is a man dying alone in his kitchen. Every day is a dog named Biscuit. Every day is spit on the carpet. Every day is the bottom of a bucket. Every day is slide guitar.
Every day is dirt slung out in the garden. Every day is a mountain punching the sun. Every day is a cut-out cowboy. Every day is a cardboard dream.
Every day is caught somewhere between the blather and noise of exploding faces. Every day is an eye torn open. Every day is a gate rusted stuck. Every day is a spur dragging in the dirt. Every day is a broken boy.
Every day is a busted throat. Every day is dry swallow. Every day is Vicodin and tumbleweed.
Every day is an open mouth choking on painted paper. Every day is a trailer and a cactus. Every day is a note asking you to take me back. Every day is rapture. Every day is cartoon complete.
pea river journal 
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