Hanging with my corner boys, staying back from yesterday’s noise, remembering the sad damp taste of the flesh on flesh of broken souls, fractured hearts, all scattered dust across pavement and garbage pail dreams.

Hanging with my corner boys, saying Rabbit, brother, get the fire stoked, the colds working our bones. The Kingdom of Willie and Joe moves on waves of ripple and wine, sad songs of broken times.

Hanging with my corner boys, waking this day to that dream just gone. In this day now, new dreams on the table. But the light cast by the Kingdom of Willie and Joe, warms me still and helps light the way.

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