my sleeve tries to hold my arm
I drink what is in the glass
no I don't
I feel the fabric move over my elbow
I stop
I look at my hand

_________________
"Be not deceived by the sweet words of proverbial philosophy. Sugar of lead is a poison."

I come to Chiff and Fipple
I am awash with ennui
Then:
A poem
O dear, someone is drunk

Why do we call these ardent potions
"Spirits"
?
Because they cannot speak
Until we let them in,
And then:
Man, that sucka was just dyin' to say something,
Anything. It wants to be heard
, if only by itself.
So.
Spirits.






[This is probably the single most stupidly bad "poem" I ever wrote.]

_________________
"Time is the wisest counselor of all." - Pericles

"I remain not entirely convinced of it." - Nano

Well, the night is young.

I can't think of a poem
to write about drink
but when I get hoem
I'll have a little think ...

_________________
"Only connect!"

While holed up at hoem,
Your thoughts to collect,
My sagest advice
Is "Only connect"

_________________
Barrowburn