a doom gloom paranoia underneath the southern sky
makes me miss Tennessee—a place of voodoo
where shrunken heads skip around the eye
and where black and white are both unheard but true;
where the blues laid ground to a Dixie roll
that captivated children’s hips and bones—
constant blindly reading took its toll
on Bible spines and battery-powered megaphones;
where jazz migrated North to escape the heat
of the Delta and the swelter of the Deeper South;
where ragtime took a nap and left its dapper feet
tapping from the horns inside of tortured mouths.
a doom gloom paranoia underneath the southern sky
makes me gaze upon this desolate land with a weary eye.
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