"the island king"

"the island king"
after a few photos of the wilderness by jake kilroy.

he was lost to a cabin on the west coast
when he heard acoustic guitars in his youth,
felt up by drunkards in a panic sweep,
and thought six strings couldn't sound more
honest or hopeful or broken with sorrow.

so the birds drank his rum,
and deer huffed his smokes,
while he stroked his beard
and played guitar like an animal.
and thus was the rhyme of rumors...

"throats were strummed with soft finger play
beyond seattle and its immaculate gray
so an island king could be worshiped and crowned,
finally baptized in puget sound.

thorns stabbed his side instead of his brow,
and he day-drank coffee like wine somehow.
come one, come all, the poster had spoke,
tapping the eyes of capitol hill jokes.

and so the master of melody sat on a log,
and picked his teeth and rumbled his thoughts,
beckoning no mercy or madness, true;
just wantin' to play music for me and you."