Friday, January 7, 2011

love poem

i chain-smoked
your wrists
& didn't hack

i put your
eyeballs out
on my palms
& didn't

i swung
from a
of your
thick hair
& my neck
stayed intact

i wore
a bag of
your skin
around my
whole head
& i didn't
turn blue

i dropped
shots of
your bile
into pint
of your blood
& didn't get
the spins
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.