the
children
are
jumping
rope
over
graves
they
are
bouncing
rubber
balls
off
mausoleum
walls
they
are
making
tic tac toe
boxes
w/chalk
upon
tombstones
they
are
as
merciless
in
their
innocence
as
the
spears
of
grass
that
sway
as
you
murder
me
&
i
murder
you
in
this
strange
game
called
love
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.
Blog Archive
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2010
(103)
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May
(28)
- give me the one-way chute
- when it's yr every third thought it makes you yawn
- one day yr bones will tap you on the shoulder
- sink in the fangs
- all my life i've given nods to nothingness
- one finger unsalute
- manure & the other side
- give me a one-way chute
- my moments are a string of piss stained empty cups
- the same song forever
- ironically it's the only thing holding it up
- in the hands of the clock
- no voltage in the soul
- my definition of hope
- loveless
- today the void is a pearl
- mightily & voluntarily
- the middle man will break yr heart everytime
- the unamerican dream
- tonight i cannot recall
- where i live now
- primarily a scar
- the myth of the blood red tattoo
- if only they could see my insides they'd run
- gradually you realize there's a dead dog strapped ...
- once a lovely hole to wholeness
- madly dancing in the furnace
- the grass & the children are green
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▼
May
(28)