Clovis Ane, a lefthanded poet:
Old woman
Brush yer tooth
and get in here with me
The fire is in me.
Shoeless under a sawhorse desk with a whitewashed door and a facetglass knob, worked up in a rear bedroom away from morning sun. A draughtman’s pencil, wormwood liquor. This one finished. No one to guess what dreams in that cloudy startled eye.