https://www.amazon.com/dp/170132976X/ref=sr_1_5?keywords=linda+imbler&qid=1584903864&sr=8-5
Ozzy and Elvis
Madame Toussand,
mistress of this mum universe.
Jerry Lee Lewis-the poser rocks,
an advancing royal emerging—the King!
This non-verbal tribe
of musical celebs,
they candidly convey
each individual extraordinary size and shape.
Visitors make a cold diagnosis
of the famous,
they, built from bones of steel and clay.
Their wooden features
exhibited through waxen physicality.
Actual clothes, hair, and props
lend realism to each display.
3-D still lives,
Shaped by knives,
Positioned to sit or stand,
Leaders of their bands.
Hooch
Abating sentries of rev’noors,
these now impeccable brewers
offer steep drink within lawful lines.
They’re no longer part of a sinning legion.
Once clandestine lodging of glass bottles,
hidden under haystacks,
and behind hollow brick facades.
Chosen by disobedient revelers,
with a glib indecency,
and a whacked fetish for drink.
The history of moonshine reflected
in poorly remembered scenarios,
in suppressed neighborhoods,
along some preferred mazes
of streets and alleyways.
A nauseous whirlwind
of heavy boozers weaving their way home.
And wives with no resolute sleep,
offer a dramatic welcoming back home.
Their ramshackle boom,
loudness in the living room.
In a lunar instant,
a starlight grenade he offers in response.
And landlords cite an embarrassing dread,
as families face a rancorous displacement,
and bags of empty vessels are left behind.
Kentucky stills now in the open,
Pray no more families become broken.
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