... addiction ..., ... country ..., ... experimental ..., ... ghosts ..., ... girl ..., ... heartsick ..., ... home ..., ... life ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... the South ..., ... time ...

Drunk Poetry

Like sex
Is sloppy
In execution

And honored
By fuzzy
Images remembered
Over coffee

Or daytime
T. V.

It collapses
On itself

Forming
Enchanted

Ruins of regret

“Why, Harris,
Why did I
Write that?”

“It’s no more
Poetry than
It is
Fucking.”

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