on whiskey sometimes, I channel some black
poet who’s a big fan of the jimi — hendrix
for all you purplefied pedestrians — tonight
he’s high again and lovin’ life and lovin’ his
own little stretch of river under mcluggage
up toward the anus of illinois, pe-o-ri-a!
he ain’t had a meal in seven days and six nights
but for a dram of brandy some gen’rous
soul gave him sunday night in the season’s spirit
and something akin to human decency—
compassion ain’t too hard to come by ‘mongst
the shitpoor street-lickin masses these days,
and TeeCee ain’t no ‘ception to the rule
o’ dog-eat-dog and beggar kings give no orders.
David M Pitchford
14 Dec 2011