Saturday, January 26, 2008

paper sacks of rustling tears for sale

i am a vertical roadkill poet
banging my bleeding yellowed fingers
upon a scratched up laptop

i draw a skull & crossbones
in the film of dust on the screen
& then jab at my keys
the dead alphabet forms black words
beneath the death's head

the sentences pour out & i catch
them below in old liquor store bags

i hustle my paper sacks of rustling tears
on the street to anyone who is crazy
enough to listen
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.