Poetry 2017


By: Daniel Grigg


Thanks be to you, Derealization, for the night

I swallowed hydrocodone & crawled into bed,


pissed the bed, for the 6:00 AM gas station

& Ms. Nancy who said, “Breakfast?”


to the chocolate pie I put

on the checkout counter.


Austin made me coffee in November

& splashed in some cheap bourbon.


We drank it together on my blue couch

& it was godawful but hot.


Thanks be to you, sweet Tennessee.

You have broken better cherries than I.


Mt. Juliet, new world Jerusalem,

I am in your basement back room & your tornado


with a nasty movie on the TV,

bareback saint getting crucified on the pool table,


this was all happening in the bedroom mirror

& that makes me Jesus Christ.


One Southern summer night

my sweet teamsters carried me back,


carried me just as I had carried them,

at that time being one of the boys.