drinking buddies can't get tighter,
like the moon
connects to the
earth through
its gravity,
like cheese
under the cracker,
like a dog's mouth
around the ball.
scotch brings
them in close
like project denizens who grew up
a hallway
down from one another:
nice and tight.
Well, it looks like I've majorly lapsed on the poem-a-day habit. Not to worry. I'm taking a short break to finish the Balkey story line....
“What,” the young, scarred and scabbed Scib said, “did Mr. Pin calm him – Bixson-” And Balkey closed the gap as soon as the word left the...
Tell him Coral has finally gone sour and the Pin is as crooked as we all thought,” fryed Balkey and eyed the straight and tall, the...