Читать книгу A Hanging at Cinder Bottom - Glenn Taylor - Страница 5

Cook ovens glare red-eyed upon the darkness

And belch their cinders at the fevered days.

—LOUISE MCNEILL

A man with a guitar laid flat on his lap

And a pocketknife for a slide

Called a song about old Keystone

Where the strumpets and knaves reside

Come all ye fornicators he sang

Come on Death’s Black Train

Ain’t no difference ’tween here and hell

’Cept a creek running ’side the lane

He told the tale of the Kid and the Queen

And he told what came before

The years he gave were wide apart

A season apiece made four

1877’s Fall and Winter ’97

1903 in Spring and Summer 1910

The hell he conjured was so glorious

I found salvation in every sin.

—JENKINJONES CHESTER