Southern baptist
mike lazarchuk
Jensen had 1 moss green tooth
Off left top of his mouth
Could spit tobacco juice
2 neat bullets flying out
A few yards claimed he could land
Each brown slug on a quarter
Put 50 cents out in his
Chicken shit yard stand on the
Porch&land his drool right
On those damn yankee Washingtons
Jensen grew 5 acres of sad peanuts
Okra&greens in south Georgia
The last holdout against the
Corporation’s industrial obsession
Got caught in a court order filed by
a couple of smooth from Atlanta
Lost it all signing over those acres
His bib overall pride beginning to wither
Watching that stark black car
From the city hauling his life away
72 years worth of nothing left standing on
That rickety rocking chair porch swaying
Back&forth like a ratty Georgia pine
Bellowing&blabbering to his Baptist Jesus
Jensen’s clod-hoppers splattered with guts
Red-Boy Jensen’s faithful to the end hound dog
Blown apart red blood mixing
With red Georgia blood
Jensen cradling the old squirrel killing shotgun
Eyes to the sky barrel under his chin babbling
Jesus O Jesus we’s comin’ home
