| |
|
| |
Iced thirst
Hike-weary, Moab mart, bottles drained
pee-dribble gone, nothing to spit.
Clerk, ammo-belted, pistoled hipped
fires stink-eye, dries any hope
he’ll lunch — down cans of Spam, Red Bull
fondle Glock in monster truck.
No cold H two oh, no frosty brews
no early Coke spiked with blow. Forget water
six-pack, block of ice. Lurch outside
find sprinkler down the street, drink deep.
Spit, gun hybrid, speed by
leave red-necked mini-czar behind. |
|
|
|
| |
Timothy Pilgrim, a native of Montana and retired university journalism professor living in Bellingham, WA, is a Pacific Northwest poet and 2018 Pushcart Prize nominee. His poems have been accepted more than 500 times by journals such as Toasted Cheese, Mad Swirl, Cirque, Santa Ana River Review, Windsor Review, Hobart, Otoliths and Prole Press in the U.S. Canada, Australia and the United Kingdom. He is the author of Mapping Water and Seduced by metaphor: Timothy Pilgrim collected published poems, which the back cover calls “a 10 on any Richter imagination scale.” |
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
