Everette Maddox comes to Belle

we don’t have alabama moonlight
or family histories that add up
into anything more than corn whiskey
or biblical floods

our pockets filled with pebbles
and loose change
leave an emotional deficit
no matter how many times
we count them

you say
that’s alright
just lay flat
on your back

and look for camelot
as your dreams
cross the mississippi river
floating away
in a brooks brothers suit.

John Prine Never Wrote a Song About That

the moon grazing
in the sweet grass
out for blaze foley’s soul

scott wannberg
writing his name
in the snow

a pair of crows
bone tired
of dreaming.

John Dorsey lived for several years in Toledo, Ohio. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Teaching the Dead to Sing: The Outlaw’s Prayer (Rose of Sharon Press, 2006), Sodomy is a City in New Jersey (American Mettle Books, 2010), Appalachian Frankenstein (GTK Press, 2015) and Being the Fire (Tangerine Press, 2016).  His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. He may be reached at archerevans@yahoo.com