A scuffed beatnik heart riding nowhere-rails,
shoulders a bindle bursting with damned hymns.
Spirit full of hollow, head full of clouds,
crooked bones rusted beneath old-iron limbs.
Just pocket-change notions for a pillow,
a trade of a song for a fleeting stay.
No fixed abode, a balladeer roaming
in search of destination on the way.
Cameron Lincoln 2017
Collected in Sideways Rain