Friday, December 4, 2009

don juan of melancholia

i realize
while
humbly
drinking
yesterday's
flat beer

that
i am
not
beyond
hurt
yet

in fact
it's quite
the
opposite

like my so-called
"achilles heel"
metastasized
like cancer
& made my
entire shape
a target
every cell
a bull's eye

every hour
contains
60
arrows

everything
stabs
me
these
days:

two sunnyside
eggs
popping
in the
frying pan

the crunching
noise
that occurs
while buttering
toast

the cat
stalking
sparrows

the recycling pail
overflowing
w/empties

a bloated
cigarette
floating in
a rain-filled
ashtray on
the bench
outside
my door

every
exhalation
i
make
in
the
dark

love
& lack
of
it
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.