I owe my world to snotty nosed kids

Graphic By Renee Kennedy

                                                                                                                                      I owe my world to the 

                                                                                                                              Snotty nosed country kids

                                                                                                     Cus they don’t like to use tissues no they

                                                                                 Wipe their noses on their hands, fingers, palms, arms,

                                                  And when they run through the cattails and 

                                               wheatfield they carry old plastic baseball bats

                                                    Covered in dirt from the ground where 

At least one of our great great great great great great

Great great great great great great great great great grandfathers

Is buried. he saw the world for the first time


The world owes me

At least some snotty nosed city kids 

Cus sitting in my place in the most milky way i get

So so so lonely when i can’t see little people on

                                           The blue-green-gas-water-solid floating orb they

                                            Saw me. And cut the trees and made mazes of 

                                     Concrete so dark that even when they come out to play

                                                                                     Basketball jump rope 4 square cops and robbers 

                                                                                             I can see their shiny white shirts and notice

                                                                                                              The snot wiped on their sleeves


                                                       Snotty nosed kids all over owe

                                                         The world probably nothing 

cause they have missing-gap-crooked teeth leave them

Under their pillows for pocket change but some like to

                                                            Throw them up real real high to make new shiny constellations 

                                                                 Then back in time so the ancient greeks can name em and

All of them know how to braid beads hair and bright woollen string, beat

                                                          Scraps of metal on roads in with big big sticks passed down like 

                                   Ancestral knowledge of fossilised mothers and fathers so

            I get inspiration and braid together this galaxy into 

                                                A Handkerchief so they may

Wipe their noses