moments
offer
themselves
string
after
string
of
chances
empty
cups
to
fill
to
the
brim
w/
yr
soul
juices
i
attempt
to
piss
in
them
as
pass
me
i
know
better
in
the
end
something
turns
them
face
down
anyway
the
juices
of
the
soul
seeping
back
in
the
skin
of
the
planet
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
-
▼
2010
(103)
-
▼
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
-
▼
May
(28)