Bring me that blue flame,
white lightning,
hooch on a spoon.
Give me some clear shine,
tingly lips;
I’m waiting on the mule kick
to send me to the moon.
I been baptized
in the firewater.
Confessed my sins
on Newman’s Ridge, and
prayed to the mountain’s spire.
I been bit
by the unfetchable white dog,
swallowed and spit,
through a swan’s neck.
But before I die,
give me some clear vapor,
a pour I can see my own reflection inside of,
the on-fire vampire,
high-proof moon raker.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless





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