line up all the empty bottles
the long-necked beer bottles
the wine bottles
Stand to attention all the empty bottles, yes …
the long-necked beer bottles from the antique stores,
steam off the labels and line the bottles up, the green ones
with the brown, black, yellow and clear ones.
The beer bottles whose labels have been torn off by
bleak, neurotic fingers
pillow bottle a disciplinary form of some metaphor?
The bottles afloat on all the seas, those with messages in
them and those without any.
What I viewed there once, what I view again /Where the physic bottles stand
On the table’s edge,—is a suburb lane, / With a wall to my bedside hand.
Line up the bottle that killed Malcolm Lowry with the bottle
that killed Dylan Thomas ( I think that’s a record ! ).
I don’t know how many bottles of beer
I have consumed while waiting for things
to get better
line up the bottle that killed Malcolm Lowry with the bottle that killed Dylan Thomas
Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning.
and the bottles that killed all the drunken poets nobody’s heard of and the poets who spoke all their lines into their bottles
Because their words had forked no lightning
Yes, line up all the empty bottles; yes …
the bottles that killed all the drunken monkeys,
poets nobody’s heard of and the poets who spoke all their
lines into their bottles and all that weren’t smashed on frozen
roadsides, when flung from car windows.
Nevertheless, I am happy
Riding in a car with my brother
and drinking from a pint of Old Crow.
We do not have any place in mind to go,
we are just driving.
because I’m telling you now, right now…
the party’s over.