Saturday, June 12, 2010

bombs & splinters

i've
never
known
that
thing
called
"safe
&
sound"

how
could
one
be
safe
w/a
heart
in
one's
chest

a
ticking
blood
bomb
we
bear
from
birth

& sound

what
a
laugh

that
3lbs
of
gray
mush
full
of
the
splinters
of
living
can
never
be
anything
but
mad
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This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.