"voices"

i’ve tried to hone

my edge

but can’t.

i’m not one of those

with razor-tongued,

barbed-wire

barabarism.

i’m more han shan

than hip-hop.

my place is inebriated

with the moon,

spinning tales of

confusion through

the trees,

not balanced

before a mike

sending vitriol

through the grandstands,

pouring salt

into the coffee.

i’m just a drunken

jalopy

of a poet

happy when a line

lies right

on the page,

and i’m ok

with that.