Cast Down Your Buckets Where You Are

to fathom the ad naseum
of farmers and teachers and stagehands
expanding days into seasons
i’ve been working on the railroad
all this for $100/week
the weather never changes
but pours down on the tin roof
leaving red hands prints on the wall
this is where the story begins
a mark to signify innocence
placed all over folklore & uttered
continuously in the parlance of the county
only to be a two-hour solipsist
go away, i’m through with you