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poetry

This tag is associated with 957 posts

The cannibals are out tonight

Wet dogs clean themselves better than this fatty bus slopped with age that streaks its wear into me with each bump and I wonder if the first astronauts looked back and asked where they were going to go now because they’d never get off at that stop again where toothpicks poke up, up, up pretending to be … Continue reading

Scabs

I am an empty, flabby bag of skin going bad that was going to write my last poem today but I cut my thumb while capping the pen and I saw that there was still a little bit of me left to read and a little bit more that could press itself onto you until … Continue reading

Genealogy of emptiness

The only advice my father ever gave me was to never be a father. * My father taught me how to be a writer by pounding away at something unformed and useless until it stops quivering and bleeding and sits still, waits, listening to the quiet of ideas. He knew what he knew, which is great, … Continue reading

Dead things float

For a while now, I have felt like I need to cry and I don’t know why, which I suppose is reason enough to cry, but I do not, which I suppose is another reason to cry. * Goldfish have more recognition than you about how far we’ve sunk, but I guess we forgot how … Continue reading

Ready to fuck up heaven

Wake up each day as though you’re straight from hell ready to fuck up heaven if it gets in your way, and then, create paradise. * There was a poet I knew who paid for their living with poetry because she printed each stanza, each line and rhyme on a hundred dollar bill and the … Continue reading

Solid to sludge

Sitting on a dick that’s limp she reminds me of the happiest day of my life when I am five and my father brings a cake to wish me a happy birthday and he says he’s happy really happy and so am I – both of us the happiest after a life he pieced together … Continue reading

All we have

I was left believing that I’d do anything for you but this is the left over bits of anything, and you have lost faith in us despite everything, which I suppose leaves me with nothing except this. * I want to write a line that would fix all of it but I only have this … Continue reading

Guts, be polite

I want to convince you that I am worth it because of the times we’ve had loving, licking, and outlining our figures in fingers that can tickle and massage and imprint a person with madness if they are taken away too quickly like a reverse burn felt first from the inside then moving out guzzling everything around in … Continue reading

All there ever is

I was with seven women in a week and I thought, man I must be something special, but I wasn’t and they weren’t either – laying there like bloated animals too slow to move after having their fill while looking at vultures’ legs circling in the cove ceiling or when they were cats cooing cats, scratching, purring, … Continue reading

A bird afraid of heights

The sun sets when the day begins for I hoist myself above my balcony with cars below and people above and I am happy that I have a choice to be happy or not with just a baby step, though I am a nested bird that is afraid of heights. * Night is too short. … Continue reading