English poetry

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I WILL NOT EAT MY POEM

I kill for pleasure
Not for gain.
A man much more
Than you my hands
Find knives
& flash them.
I am guilty
In my works
While in their eyes
I seek redemption.
I find myself
Forgotten
Angry at the thought
Of bread. I will not
Eat my poem(A. Artaud)
Much less be raped
By it. I have a home
But sit with others
Shirtless, waiting
For the moon to rise.
I am a warrior
Grown old.
The number on my ticket
Tells the time.
I seldom wash
& wear a string
Around my throat
Until it crumbles.
See yourself for love
The fool advises
& the wise man murmurs
Spill it now!
Your glass is never
Empty!
I see your arm
The color of
Wild lilacs.
It is not too late
For memory.
Days together are
Like days apart.

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Poem I WILL NOT EAT MY POEM - Jerome Rothenberg