Saturday, March 8, 2008

blood from tear ducts

i
think
of
drunk
jackson
pollock
w/dripping
brushes
& him
conducting
w/them
through
the
air
& the
paint
slanting
down
like
colored
rain
onto
the
canvas

i
think
of
van gogh
slapping
it on
thick
like
panicky
pastel
mortar

& i
wail
the
abc's
at
the
blank
page
&
watch
them
roll down
like
blood
from
tear
ducts
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.