John-Ward Leighton

IN THE YEAR OF THE RABBIT

what was I thinking
its not like I’ve gone back to drinking
flailing about like a brain dead hillbilly
unable to see anything but silly

it seems to be a reoccurring habit
one month into the year of the rabbit
coffee with my gang this morning
beats laying in the sack snoring

more verse in the sea of consciousness
and when you wade in in the nude
and the cold hits you in the balls
and you think goodness gracious

from my rooftop the Lions shine
something simple and divine
saying cheer up you schlup
on a word I just made up

my muse says don’t get into the habit
the world is confusing enough
without new words
in the year of the rabbit