benjamin gardner
writing:
selections from South Hill
selections from Phenomenology for Lovers
selections from Porch Hymnals
short story: the final day
MFA thesis (.doc)
old ballad #1
some whiskey in a bottle, a bottle, a bottle for my love.
after its done, gone away, it’s a clear pocket for her picture, the only one I think of.
i walk along the streets at night, drinking the whiskey from the bottle, so I can see her face again, in the street light.
some whiskey in a bottle, a bottle, a bottle of my baby.
each sip I take a memory I make of her hair that’s wavy.
and hair that’s brown, when its down, looks much like my whiskey.
some whiskey in a bottle, a bottle, a bottle so clear and clean.
I drank it all, and now she's gone, never to return, never to be seen.
more whiskey in a bottle, a bottle, a bottle, is all I can think of with no lover to long for.