Today my father is dead, my mother mad And I, all grown up, suffering from dry rot And supported on sea legs That have too long been docked At the edge of the neighborhood bar Whose hardened spine refuses to Carry me home.
Today my father is dead, my mother mad And I, all grown up, suffering from dry rot And supported on sea legs That have too long been docked At the edge of the neighborhood bar Whose hardened spine refuses to Carry me home.
Umbriate Press Poetry 