For Times of Drink and Pen and Solitude

by Jim Kopetz

One more blissful night alone,
the comfort of San Quentin.
One more blissful night of better known,
and thoughts that I have written.

Upon this page my time draws near,
when want becomes need like fire.
Of mountain tops where height brings fear,
and childish dreams aspire.

You goddamn idiot, you shameless fool,
can't see what you have started.
The pen a priceless, gilded tool,
to visualize pasts departed.

If ink is blood, and blood ink,
and thinned with ample whiskey.
Then spill it all, the kitchen sink,
and lend emotions briskly.