Echoes

About Me

This is for the two-year-olds who can not be understood because they speak half english and half god.

Blogs I follow:

1. 24/30

   just past the trembling heartland of this drunken country 
   (drunk on wine and easy words and shallow philosophy), 
   
   that’s trying to rowdy-stumble touch
   its way into someone’s morning conversation,
   
   there’s Tennessee,
   where people have the stereotypical Texas accent,
   
   (the same accent that no Texan actually has)
   and when we cross into Memphis,
   
   it’s known that we’re only stopping for 1950’s diners, gas, or blue-jeaned Elvis Presley’s,
   that don’t sleep as much as they should and who’ll trade music for miles,
   
   and about two diners and three Presleys later
   we’ll see the Blue Ridge Mountains,
   
   the ones that everyone sings about,
   and we’ll know that we’re almost home.

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