what on earth is this thing in my chest beating for?

this fist full
of blood in
my chest
has beaten
well over a
billion times
already

i've done
the
calculations

& today
i wonder
what they'd
sound
like
simultaneously

40 years
of beating

over a
billion
beats
at
once

but a better
question might be:
what on earth
would those
billion beats
be pounding upon?

love's door?

or
meaninglessly beating
upon an
exit?

that mute place
beyond numbers
& calculations
& love, yes
beyond love...

6 feet 8 inches & still lost

thomas wolfe
dead at 38

smoked 60
cigarettes
& drank 20 cups
of coffee
per day

so tall
he wrote
while
standing

using
the top
of his
refrigerator
as a
writing
surface

he was
8 inches taller
than the depth
of a grave

& that towering
lonely frame
told us
about being
lost

about not being
able to go
home anymore

& i think of him
whenever the
fridge door
squeaks open

& i eat
cold meat
off a bone
in bed
alone
at 2:15 am

cigarette smoke
rising but
w/nowhere to go

poetry doesn't begin w/a lump in the throat but rather w/a hand grenade...

that old softy robert frost said that
on his stone he wanted written:
"i had a lover's quarrel with the world"

i don't desire a stone but if i did i'd want:
"he had pistol whipping fist fights
w/this godless son-of-a-bitchin' world"