Down by Province House

Down by Province House

Down by Province House,
on a bench under
the slow-flowering lindens,
a man sits loose-limbed

with a bottle of rum
tucked inside his coat,
close to his heart;
warmth trickles down

his throat and bleeds into
his blood to rise through
the branching veins and open
sad blossoms in his brain.

About John MacKenzie

I'll mumble for ya. Poetry, plus most things quantifiable: science, neuroscience, memory, epistemology, baseball. And so on.
This entry was posted in Art is lies, John MacKenzie, Lindens, New poems, Poem tweets, Poetry, Summer and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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