... addiction ..., ... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... death ..., ... experimental ..., ... heartsick ..., ... love ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... the South ..., ... weed ..., ... written under the influence ...

indians and vapor trails

it’s the vapor trails
that leave me
wretchedly inebriated

and they come to
me through the
most fabulous
peace pipe

bought from a man, a
junk dealer, this and that man,
the boiled peanuts man,
the seven-toed man

for a bill. now it’s
wooden body and brass
fittings fill my mind
with cotton daydreams

of bare feet and red skinned backs
moving silently through
the forest, in sun and moon
invisible to the white man.

until those vapor trails…

(he really only has seven toes)

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