Monday, November 11, 2013

Beer in Autumn

There's just something about drinking beer in autumn,

Intermittent swigs tailgating

Chrome stalks blaring light

 Friday nights in the country

Lumbering rustle of a Combine

In an aching field as the

World welds shut in a crisp lid of darkness

pilsner moon dangling overhead,

splotches of frost gnawing into the earth

There’s just something about drinking

Beer in autumn

Beer that erupts in an applause of minty hops

the moment it hits your palate.

Beer that leaves sudsy latitudinal residue

on the interior of the chalice after each swig

 demarcating its territory in hyphenated rips of foam.



Cornerstone pinwheel keg,

The gushing tap of a draught

Shot gunned, chugged, case-raced

Flip cupped, t-wolfed,

Siphoned in circuitous plastic funnel

Receptacle of ponged orbs

Faceless lotto, power hour

SOLO cupped, or quaffed

 In one lugubrious slurp

from a Translucent boot

There’s just something about drinking beer in autumn


Feint crackle of sulphuric embers

Echoes olfactory mantras

Mixed with Keatsian odes

Hawthorne vowels, Nautical swill

amber suds, leafy foliage of the earth

running naked with deer and Walt Whitman

yeasty beer belly a cummerbund of flesh

silver drizzle of harvest stars


There’s just something about drinking beer in autumn

Orange flavor six-pack in a tree stand

Rifle claps, sentences attired in bulbs of breath

 clods of ice in a bucket

Shuffling fantasy football stats, pumpkin

sky drifts off into a lucid umbrella of darkness


How I’ll continue to drink Beer in autumn

Brachiating from barstool skeletal

Boughs of trees  continue to drink (beer)

 Until Prometheus peels my liver

 from the strip of flesh

Flattened it like a leaf

I wedged in a notebook

For a high school biology class

Not realizing that this vascular organ

 Thanksgiving dinner table colors

Was somehow once able to breathe.


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