Long Out sowing your wild oats Poems

Part Two

Till October comes around with its bounty
   The granary stuffed to the full
Lush fruits still pulpy and juicy
   Ripen to a filthy rashes on skin brashness
The greenness of innocence
 ...

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Ben raised up a dern disappointment, Daddy, well, he wanted a boy.
Wasn’t nothing under the bleeding red sun Ma could do but keep on a tryin’
Ya’siree, she was one branded filly and dern iffin that...

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Let’s not go,
let’s not reach anywhere.
The toenails have started digging in the earth, 
to make peace with the distress response
of the bruised hunger for transactional surrender.

And the surrogate mother will abandon
the child for the father...

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