fiddle & jug

I’ve got rolling papers
and some wheat grass
Have I eaten?  What have I got

left?  Little organs,
my uncle’s reeds;
the air goes in there

and you cover these with your hands
My bowie knife
That was a gift from

dad who saw the wars
and the inside of bars &

some female’s holiest gift
to Man
The box where I keep bread loaf

My mother had taught me
how to bake;
to leave it in ‘til the buns swelled;

send them kneeling and screaming
But she’s been gone & my old man,
he should be by now

What have I got?  All their left time
All Fiddle & Jug.  Smoky.  Smoky.  
Grass chewy.