Tag: writing

psychotic metaphysics

the rain is spattering the roof like
machine gun fire
a puerto rican gave me
a sandwich, tried to
make me laugh
in this place
made for tears
and an indian girl
lets out a primal scream
and throws a chair
across the room
the way i did at eight
the year the boys
discovered me
everyone asks
if i’m writing of them
i tell them no
i’m writing about
space and time


hangover and coffee

the sound of the hoover

hurts my head

i get the sensation of falling

wake honey baby

who did you drunk dial

last night?

the poem is finished

so i celebrated

even though that boy

didn’t understand

when you write one

good poem

out of thousands

it deserves to be toasted

happy hour

i dreamed of delacroix drawing dead horses

while rimbaud wrote about romantic reality

when i awoke i carried the memory all the morning

through my coffee and cigarettes i called

on my own creativity

to write about

love without loss

truth without tragedy

freedom without fright

so this is my alliteration

on my illustrious awakening

that art can exist without agony