Poemless

fields

of whisky

black

 

under

a sunless day

under

a cloudy sky…

heart is a

cardboard box;

 

forgotten rhythm(s)

& impotent stroke(s)

numb these thoughts

of thoughtlessness;

 

versus are shiftless

stanzas wander

prose(s) indisposed ~

drunk is the poet

 

with a leadless pen in hand

& a tattered notebook

with pages of dirty white

crinkle[ing]

against the wind…

                              scream;

 

in quoted brackets

I am read:

 

[Please Insert Poem Here]

 

Self~Cannibalism

greatness

this morning

came in the form

of wall street dogs

barking on CNN, and billionaire

roosters crowing in their

free range hacienda coops ~

i scratched my head beneath chipped nails,

peeling away dead skin from my scalp

like a snake shedding away pounds and pounds

of acidic rodent death

and cannibalism

and everything weighing heavy on my mind

and started fresh

with a half-pot of coffee,

a full kiss on your mouth

and this poem about nothing great

 

She Left

she left

ridin’

that midnight train

to Georgia

 

and she left

like a man ~

 

with only the clothes

on her back

 

I could’ve never loved her

as a woman, though

 

especially when she left [behind]

a twelve pack

in the fridge

and

the toilet seat up