retaliation it was two weeks after you returned from rehab, dad I found the first vodka bottle, a Smirnoff pint, stashed beneath the driver's seat of your Ford. I propped the empty on the dashboard like a bobble-head. I didn't tell you this then, but... going into my room and leaving my dog-eared copies of Penthouse on my pillow next to the Vaseline... that was a pretty good comeback. Karl Koweski is a displaced Region Day now living in a valley in rural Alabama. His latest collection of poetry from Roadside Press "Abandoned By All Things" is out now.
Like the title says.

This is about the most bitchin poem about death I've had the great pleasure of reading. Love the flow and the especially those final three lines. This is the goodness.
ReplyDeleteThis would be a great one live. Read somewhere in Atlanta!
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