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Part 1
Billy enjoyed mapping
his consciousness
through the bottoms of green and
brown glass bottles
Alcoholism was more
than just a hobby
to Billy, it was
entirely a lifestyle
He pissed secret cursive notes
hellos and goodbyes
political commentaries and love songs
in dusty parking lots
on forest floors
with crackling pine needles
Disappearing ink
competing with the empty
for last place
For pretends’ sake
he was king
The Caesar of Bacchanalia
that righteous province
buried deep
in the soils of every loser
Often coming close
to a three way tie for last
with the void
and Billy himself
It wouldn’t be long now
before
California redemption value saved
or unmade his life
Part 2
Billy considered a lot of things
peeking through that glass
his id slow as molasses
an unbearable leak
Those fingers were always restless
’til they were cold
curled and gripping
Ten scarred and fleshy hammers
beating sense from
but not out of
a 40 oz.bottle
Drumming listless poems
out of malted mediocrity
Wishing wings from hops
Forever and always dreaming
about “the kid”
Billy used to was
- isaac seal
