my friend jon and i

by blake ellington larson

drunk on walking cows

huddle our daydreams in a row

like pretty pots and pans
we try our damndest
to get the point across

without failure

our arrows shoot the moon

without warrant

our poems backfire

our plum drunk love stories
wait like chopped wood

and our fire hides
and our journals wait

and like clouds

and photographs

and string

we’re out there somewhere