Empties

Empty liquor bottles gather dust
sitting on the floor.
Soldiers without purpose
Life's blood drained and gone
So why do they remain
A silent testament
to night's of half-bred thoughts
and delusions
to cauterize the weight
of each day that had passed
Buried above ground
until they are tossed into
a heap and their bodies
shatter into shards

Accidentals

I cannot write your story though I can imagine
what may have come to pass
Young and divorced embraced by a new love
Caught in a place you never intended
But now you cannot leave
Love carried you this far
Now where will reason take you
I remember a picture of you
Wearing a red dress your mother wore
When she was your age
You are timeless
With your right leg bent back
And your heel touching wall
Do you remember the time
We met when you were married
I thought of you so much
We drank and drank at the end
Of the bar while the bartender
fixed us up his favorite drink.
I got too drunk that night to be
Anything but a silly man
I thought of you then
And I think of you now
I remember the songs you sung
I'd listen to them over and over
And would imagine you
Singing them just for me
I know that wasn't true
Somewhere between
Then and now
Your beloved cousin died
And so did your brother
I know we've lost touch
I am sorry for your loss
I don't know what else to say
You whom I loved so dear
And pined for in futility
I hope your health is well
I'd like to think we'll see each other
Again some day by chance
Or circumstance

Foolish solutions to existential problems. 

I'll give you something to drink about.

Lingering Hunger

I wake but do not eat.
I let myself empty
as fully
as I can
before anything
is consumed.
The morning blazes
across the brown
grass. We both thirst
for incompatible
reasons. My tongue
assumes the quality
of sandpaper,
like the tongue
of a cat. I will rid
myself of thirst,
though, I will let
my hunger remain.

Over Rum

Let the ants overrun the glass of rum

Let them grow drunk

Let them drink their fill

Let them drown in their mistake

Let their brothers drink

            Over the bodies of their siblings

Let their bodies rot in a pool of black

Let them learn the lessons of man 

Drinking Amber

Nothing is as peaceful as an empty bar 

on a Sunday night.

The bartender walked over and asked

what I would like to drink.

I asked her for an Old Fashioned.

When she set the drink down

I noticed she had turned it 

into a miniature art installation. 

The cherry sat perfectly centered

on top of the large square ice cube.

The orange peel rested across the glass 

like a support beam for a roof that would 

never be built. I told her I had never seen 

a drink be so well presented.

She thanked me for noticing.

It's evident when someone takes

pride in their work, no matter 

how small it may be.

I drank it slowly, the ice gradually

melting into the rye.

The glistening cube towered

over the orange slice and cherry

as they moved within the glass.

Despite small measured sips

the drink was gone all too soon.

The bartender came back 

when she saw I was done. I told her 

she had done an excellent job.

She smiled. I asked her her name.

She said Christina. I ordered a beer.

The bar was just as empty as when

I arrived. I was fine with that.

When Sunday is Friday

The week ends
with a few beers
and shots of well-whiskey
poured down
my throat.

It's a small effort
to drown
the sounds of the rambling
stream of my consciousness.

I hear my own voice
echoing back
at me.

I don't know what
to do but

search for silence.

Of Bourbon

A brown river flows

Blood thins with uncanny ease

Draw curtains over eyes

The Future

I blew out a stream

of cigarette smoke

into the bar

as a fly

flew into it.

I have faith

in whatever

needs to happen

next.