the anarchist’s canon

i need at least 5 more years
to kill the anarchist’s canon

to read everything a writer needs to read
to justify opening their pen cap and mouth

the goal then becomes living to 60
to write everything i want to write

but my liver and the wild turkey are in a race
with my high cholesterol

my heart is a jar of mayonnaise

my headstone won’t be slim either

my body is killing me

thank god i’m living on kentucky time

avoiding church bestows ten years to those
who’ve swum in my gene pool

southerners are good at slow suicides

pass the salt and a joint, please

i want my corpse to look like she partied