dry lightning nervous in the nightsky (a Telecaster jitter) north of northeast Texas in maybe Oklahoma It was cold in Amarillo the parking lot was full of truckers and my dreams were full of air brakes and the red smudged …

Somebody Else’s Son On the concourse somebody else’s son rocks his brand-new desert sand fatigues with a backpack and a name tag Velcro-ed on — this is how we ship them overseas. A county fair face maybe seen before, grinning …

I would avenge Ol’ Shep right here; had I finger, and a rifle. I’d leave damn Timmy in the well, contemplating vast and trifle. The scuttling hare would know my name, those squirrels would reap a welter. And random cats, …

My brother totes a tiki torch My brother holds a guidon My brother stomps a heavy boot While beneath the floor they’re hidin’ My brother drives a Challenger My brother rocks an AK My brother’s an American Living payday to …

Beauty makes its own brief of the face fixed in death’s kiln: the dancing laugh, the eyebrows raised in wonder, the snaggle-toothed grin of the daddy’s girl. “Oblivion is no end,” some say. It is deliverance or respite from a …

Someone asked me to write a song for Gregg Allman. So I did. It’s called “When the Pale Man Comes to Town.” Here’s the lyric: Warm brown bourbon in a tumbler On a slow dim Georgia night You’ve got Otis …