raising
yr
middle
finger
is
unsaluting
the
sheep,
the
empires,
the
stifling
son-of-a-bitches
on
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
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2010
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May
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- 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)