As The Sparrow
To give life you must take life, And as our grief falls flat and hollow Upon the billion-blooded sea I pass upon serious inward-breaking shoals rimmed With white-legged, white-bellied rotting creatures Lengthily dead and
Alone With Everybody
the flesh covers the bone And they put a mind In there and Sometimes a soul, And the women break Vases against the walls And the men drink too Much And nobody finds the
This
self-congratulatory nonsense as the Famous gather to applaud their seeming Greatness You Wonder where The real ones are What Giant cave Hides them As The deathly talentless Bow to Accolades As The fools are
Poetry
it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It.
Mama
here I am in the ground my mouth open and I can’t even say mama, and The dogs run by and stop and piss On my stone; I get it all Except the sun
Sleep
she was a short one Getting fat and she had once been Beautiful and She drank the wine She drank the wine in bed and Talked and screamed and cursed at Me And i
Consummation Of Grief
I even hear the mountains The way they laugh Up and down their blue sides And down in the water The fish cry And the water Is their tears. I listen to the water
So Now?
the words have come and gone, I sit ill. The phone rings, the cats sleep. Linda vacuums. I am waiting to live, Waiting to die. I wish I could ring in some bravery. It’s
What Can We Do?
at their best, there is gentleness in Humanity. Some understanding and, at times, acts of Courage But all in all it is a mass, a glob that doesn’t Have too much. It is like
Hooray Say The Roses
hooray say the roses, today is blamesday And we are red as blood. Hooray say the roses, today is Wednesday And we bloom wher soldiers fell And lovers too, And the snake at the
The Retreat
this time has finished me. I feel like the German troops Whipped by snow and the communists Walking bent With newspapers stuffed into Worn boots. My plight is just as terrible. Maybe more so.
Rhyming Poem
the goldfish sing all night with guitars, And the whores go down with the stars, The whores go down with the stars I’m sorry, sir, we close at 4:30, Besides yr mother’s neck is
I Made A Mistake
I reached up into the top of the closet And took out a pair of blue panties And showed them to her and Asked “are these yours?” And she looked and said, “no, those
Friends Within The Darkness
I can remember starving in a Small room in a strange city Shades pulled down, listening to Classical music I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife Inside Because there
Raw With Love
little dark girl with Kind eyes When it comes time to Use the knife I won’t flinch and I won’t blame You, As I drive along the shorealone As the palms wave, The ugly