Ode to the Monday Meat Raffle at Overtime Bar
Because in the beginning there was
“this deer was alive not 12 hours ago
now get your tickets and feed your family tonight.”
At which point we all simultaneously bow our heads
to pray into drinks which hover at our chins
and drown in the daylight drunkenness.
Because our pockets are full of Lucky filter-less cigarettes and
for sure some folding knives we’ve all used to cut
the experience required out of want ads.
And because we’ve never seen a ray of sunshine you couldn’t drink down
alone in the dark at the end of Overtime’s altar
while hoping for god’s sake
that you won’t have to breakdown someone else’s prey tonight.
Let some other hunter take home the loot
and fill his freezer for the winter.
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Zack has been meaning to set up a website linking to his work but his full-time performance art installation where he pretends to be just a marketing data analyst all day keeps him pretty busy. As part of that project he has a twitter account with one tweet and a LinkedIn profile.
Your best bet to find more from Zack is to google "Zack Martin Poetry". He’s the one that doesn't write cowboy poems.