i write
like
my life
there's
not much
in it
but what
little there
is
is larger
than all
the lbs
of fat
i've cut away
farther
reaching
than all
the bridges
i've burned
higher than
all of
the dreams
i've crushed
beneath
my own feet
etc...
one man
standing
stripped down
to the
basic frame
his spleen
dripping w/bile
in one hand
a paint brush
in the other...
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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July
(17)
- pick ax philosophy
- farther reaching than all the bridges i've burned
- until Loss moaned his name
- july beauties
- i awoke nauseated
- the mad lengths of the poet
- fools & demons
- staring at the plants
- this strange lonesome 40th summer
- wrecking balls & backbones
- hollow ghosts
- dying savior
- in a blink
- the burning man
- that searing singularity
- the greatest con
- misfit living
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▼
July
(17)