Mississippi,

The cops let you hear taser crack,

I don’t hang with the Cajun, I’ve never met Sorré

The gypsy Rose Wine,

gone years ago and left me shitty

When I go through the woods they hold their breath,

like i have the feet of a child and there are landmines all around

When the plane was going down I saw the gulf

The water like webs, blue widows looking

Through wan windows, singing in lines

Clapping their hands, singing church songs

The ocean from the window of the plane was a

Good dream I wanted it ripped to shreds,

it bled into the brown dripping down from

The bayous, fingers, tendrils

Convicts in canoes, bodies wrapped in rugs,

Logs, refuse and mud, the greenery limp,

Lolling along the bank near the footprints

After you get sunburned its cold all the time

Shivering, listening to Noah and his darn flood,

The thunder oh the thunder she is beautiful,

Shes next to me clapping with back-turned rage,

Offended with two eyes that would hassle me

Like a Mississippi cop she tazed me, spit brown

Spit brown, cursed me and punched me in the balls,

Then shoved me in the cruiser and took me

To the misty places where they bury folks

she is washed pure and tolerant as

if pregnant and floating in her canoe,

The flood of bodies and brown bayuk wash,

Paddling through the flood picking survivors

Out of the trees like berries, say lady, say Lord

Kind Lord take me out these shit clothes,

don’t make me a kid like bottom feeder,

I am closer to the curb than a broken tooth

but by me it seems good and fair,

that there is some time that can be yours

Any good old dirt road where we can use firearms