Brass

[Cousin Kil]

BRASS

He was thirty three but feeling one hundred
in this room, there was no room
besides for making bullets

Overhead hung three hundred points
of antler dead almighties watching
him and how he was thinking

He must of stubbed ten thousand plus
cigs into the arm of that dumpy walnut chair,
dumb hands all-knowing

He must of handled one hundred thousand casings
on that press, and smoking snouts was dumb to do
around all that gunpowder

But after awhile, he quit caring;

He liked his tobacco,
His fingers felt like brass

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Edit No. 1


BRASS

He was thirty three but feeling one hundred.
In this room, there was no room
besides for making bullets.

Overhead hung three hundred points
of antler dead almighties watching
him and how he was thinking;

He must have stubbed ten thousand plus
cigs into the arm of that dumpy walnut chair,
dumb hands all-knowing.

He must have handled one hundred thousand casings
on that press, and smoking snouts was dumb to do
around all that gunpowder.

But after a while, he quit caring:

He liked his tobacco.
His fingers felt like brass.