Made a dollar, made a blackbird
that pecked scratch corn, made weeds
hover on a warped guitar. Sunday
dropped heaven on my dollar bill.
Coined an eye in a moon crater.
It felt blue right where I looked.
It charred Flint Hill with drunks.
It flecked owl hoots like glass.
Walked home. Said a moon man
and a moon woman withered the house.
Walked outside. Heard my rib bones
troubling what nobody sees. Made money.