don't fear wrinkles
upon yr face
they exist
simply from living
rather fear
the missing lines
from living not
quite enough
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
except for pablo neruda
if yr happily in love
there's most likely
something missing
something overly satisfied
something murdered
something erased
de-fused
healed
saved
&
choked
etc...
if yr happily in love
the odds are
something's arrived
& robbed from you
all those hungry parts
that you need to make
great fucking art
screw love
take back yr scars
unlace yr sutures
kiss yr spleen hello
get back up on the ledge
there's most likely
something missing
something overly satisfied
something murdered
something erased
de-fused
healed
saved
&
choked
etc...
if yr happily in love
the odds are
something's arrived
& robbed from you
all those hungry parts
that you need to make
great fucking art
screw love
take back yr scars
unlace yr sutures
kiss yr spleen hello
get back up on the ledge
Thursday, June 9, 2011
why isn't everybody screaming?
buddha said: the world is on fire
tennesee williams said:
we are all in a house on fire
i say: we are all in a body on fire...
flames w/in flames w/in flames
(love only fans the inferno)
the smoke reaches heaven
but there are no saviors
after screaming
i light another cigarette
& just fucking wait...
tennesee williams said:
we are all in a house on fire
i say: we are all in a body on fire...
flames w/in flames w/in flames
(love only fans the inferno)
the smoke reaches heaven
but there are no saviors
after screaming
i light another cigarette
& just fucking wait...
Sunday, June 5, 2011
construction over a grave
you build a house
perhaps even one of joy
upon the plot of loss
you raise beams of laughter
tall 90 degree walls of relief
a sturdy roof seals out gray rain
but there is always a foundation
of tears beneath
a forever-leaky cellar of grief
perhaps even one of joy
upon the plot of loss
you raise beams of laughter
tall 90 degree walls of relief
a sturdy roof seals out gray rain
but there is always a foundation
of tears beneath
a forever-leaky cellar of grief
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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.