Saturday, September 11, 2010

unwantingly speared

see the newborn
impaled upon the umbilical
you mother, you father
have speared it
lifted it
from its peaceful sleep
not in the womb
but in the sweet abyss
how can you be proud
as it rides out
on slippery blood
into this war
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.