Robert Nazarene

Me & Whiskey
May 19, 2016 Nazarene Robert

Me & Whiskey


Collided hard

Into the back of 1989—

Reaching up just to grab bottom.


Somebody called for an ambulance.

It turned around

& ran the other way,


A metaphor in the making.

You can call me The Great Chief

Of wooden nickels, fled


Bar tabs, demolished

Televisions—passed out

Like promises


In tin-can-strewn yards.

A million tomorrows

Headed anywhere



How savagely I had taken to beating

My children. How they did fall

So easily down.

Robert Nazarene is founding editor of The American Journal of Poetry,