I Do Perhaps Maybe Truly Believe I Will Be Drunk on This Summer

I do perhaps maybe truly believe I will be drunk on this
summer. And this summer would be so lucky fuckin to be drunk
on me. For last summer was dry dry dry as that strange stuffed bear
that stares at me when I remember the long long halls of my high
school. Where I was not a valedictorian or not a prom king
and not a prom prince or not a mathlete but I suppose I kinda I was a poet.

I was a poet, and last summer so boring plus dry was definitely not no poet,
so it is time, I do believe I do for this summer to roll open to be this
wonderful summer sip for me to be something drunk upon. A king
in the sun, the sun within this king and I won’t know who is drunk
on who and who is where but I will be there and smiling high
perhaps on rooftops toppling over this Denver this city I bear

with—as it has borne with me and I love it this city that is a bear,
by which I think I mean that it has kept warm and torn this poet,
and by this poet I mean me if I did not make that clear in this high
brow pome you’ve rolled into like a bear in the mud in the warmth this
summer which I will cherish like a lover that returned and me drunk
of course I mean on the summer I mean and this summer where a king

will be made in wet grass beneath a summer sun wonderful king
wonderful thing because not last summer no last summer bear
with me I am in its warmth already and new again to this drunk
and this drunk is sober and sweet and clean and reserved for a poet
who knows it is okay to be drunk on a hope of a summer to come after this
year like trying to rest on the edge of the blade in a blender you’re high.

Look what I’m telling you is it’s true to be disoriented and true you’re high
and in that true truth you can be sober and it can be free from pain my king
my queen my fool my high priestess you see we’re free in moments this
summer I do perhaps maybe truly believe I will be drunk on this bear
what bear you’re high I’m free we’re free and who left the summer to a poet
who sits around with sestinas and sustains the systems of sobriety (drunk.)

We’ve been over this time and time and again and again I’m not drunk
drunk I’m drunk on what might be this summer this summer of a high
wind and a cool breeze and low draft and a newly born baby poem poet
poetry thinking drinking in the wind and sun and love and punch n drunking
some king who wears his seasons breezes here and there where his chest bear
sitting sippin pretty on an open world where people kiss and kiss and this.

This love has found me already sober and honest a king.
Bear with my drunken me, I don’t apologize for what I bear.
I do perhaps maybe truly believe I will be drunk on this


day #7 of #nationalpoetrymonth | Cover image: Buzz Anderson

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