Two Small Prose Poems

I’ve decided to put down a couple of just small prose poems I thought up the last couple of days. Think I’ll do a recording of the second one later and post it up to, so look for any updates.

And Twenty Years From Now

Boy, through all these years, you ain’t been alone. You’ve had the tall grass in your bones. You’ve had dirt between your toes and the hair on your head. You’ve had the wind whispering to you since the cradle. One of these days you’re gonna die of a broken heart. Not the whole thing, just a piston that forgot you needed it.

Directions

There’s still a few lessons you’ve gotta learn before you leave here. The first, because you’ve got a crown doesn’t make you a king. Second, as long as there is wind between your shoulder blades, you damn well better follow where it points you. The last one’s a secret. You’re gonna have to figure it out on your own for it to mean anything. It’ll be the one you live by. When you go, take all the wealth you can carry in your skin, you won’t need much more than what fits in the space of your spine. Carry it over with you on your chest when you cross over the pink ether. Burn it all when you get there. Along with the boat. When you look back, hope it looks like cigarette smoke; suspended in belief.