Here is a poem Matt B. sent.

What if it were a steel gray barrel? (Part 1)

What a cool minty freshness
is the soil beneath us
filled with appetite suppressants
and Moses and Jesus
But how are we to know
if the ball has been rolling
when we can’t find the step
to pull out from between us?
Cause if I were a man
with a nerve and a staple
I’d go straight downtown
For a pink and green cable.
And if the red is a bead
Who has nothing to say,
Then it’s an orchestra’s calling
to send me away
to the mines and the fields
in the Warrentown hall
where handicapped people
surrender and fall.
So don’t ask and don’t tell
where the good times went
or they’ll capture a knife
and command it to send
into ciliated caverns
and barbed wire defenses
and the gray in the attic
with honest intentions.