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
