The sweet, sweet cherry calls its pit “crazy,”
each of our hearts a little bit crazy.
She screams as she searches for middle c,
eyes to the sky, having a fit, crazy.
I drink whiskey near the jukebox soaking in
every note of Patsy Cline’s hit, “Crazy.”
The interest drawn is emotional depth.
The initial deposit? Crazy.
From where I sit, Ms. Cline is a genius –
from where those devils in white sit, crazy.
Princess ‘Xandra thinks I’ll survive her song,
but Princess ‘Xandra is bat-shit crazy.
Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has a new chapbook titled Set List (Bitchin Kitsch,) and two more scheduled for 2015: In Stone and The Most Awkward Silence of All (both Cruel Garters Press.) His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit and Cloudbank.