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 Apr 2014 Andrew Durst
Jack
I asked for your hand,
you gave me the finger
i
a  m
positive
that   you
are  made  of
s  t   a  r   d  u  s  t
and  water  balloons,
oil  pastels  and  the
collecti­on          of
settled     sugar
at             the
b o t  t o m
of      my
c u p s
o     f
t e a
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.
victory was so close
victory was there.
as she stood before my mirror
younger and more beautiful than
any woman I had ever known
combing yards and yards of red hair
as I watched her.
and when she came to bed
she was more beautiful than ever
and the love was very very good.
eleven months.
now she's gone
gone as they go.

this time has finished me.
it's a long road back
and back to where?
the guy ahead of me
falls.
I step over him.
did she get him too?
the women of the past keep
phoning.
there was another yesterday
arrived from out of
state.
she wanted to see
me.
I told her
"no."

I don't want to see
them,
I won't see them.
it would be
awkward
gruesome and
useless.

I know some people who can
watch the same movie
more than
once.

not me.
once I know the
plot
once I know the
ending
whether it's happy or
unhappy or
just plain
dumb,
then

for me
that movie is
finished
forever
and that's why
I refuse
to let
any of my
old movies play
over and over again
for
years.
ignore all possible concepts and possibilities ---
ignore Beethoven, the spider, the damnation of Faust ---
just make it, babe, make it:
a house  a car   a belly full of beans
pay your taxes
****
and if you can't ****
copulate.
make money but don't work too
hard --- make somebody else pay to
make it --- and
don't smoke too much but drink enough to
relax, and
stay off the streets
wipe your *** real good
use a lot of toilet paper
it's bad manners to let people know you **** or
could smell like it
if you weren't
careful
don't feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.

be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain

who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.

juggling mates
and
attitudes

their
confusion is
constant

and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.

beware of them:
one of their
key words is
"love."

and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God

for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.

don't feel sorry for me
because I am alone

for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.

I am a dog walking
backwards

I am a broken
banjo

I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio

I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.

put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
 Apr 2014 Andrew Durst
mads
How ironic it is
That we mutilate this earth
With the very substances
That bind it.

And how humorous we are
That we think
We can save ourselves
From us.
I'm exhausted and I could probably add to this one day. Enjoy
 Apr 2014 Andrew Durst
Molly
With your hands woven
into my spine
you led me into
the dark
where the icy wind
slipped my shirt off
leaving me exposed to you,
wishing I could walk away
but the trail
of breadcrumbs we left
has long since disappeared,
and now
that I am lost
beside you
I only wish
to have you closer,
but once daylight
touches our skin
and we are graced
with artificial smiles,
I will
shrug away
from you
again.
 Apr 2014 Andrew Durst
1923
If you have anxiety
and you think your shaking voice is a weakness, marry somebody
who thinks it is the sweetest thing
they have ever heard. Marry somebody
who judges the quality of words

instead. Or if they get stuck in your head
like that one thing you said at a party 2 years ago

that you still regret.
My daddy has a songbird in his heart.
Late at night, when the blue moon rises,
and the clock strikes thirteen times,
she sings loud and clear.
Over the whispering willows
and the soft hush of swaying grass,
her song is clear and piercing,
sweet and soothing.
Restless eyes dift to dreams
as her song graces their hearts.
All too soon she must return,
to the heart of my longing daddy.
There was a time, when she sung
loud and clear.
But now she's suffocating --
choking on cigarette smoke
drowning in alcohol.

My daddy has a songbird in his heart,
Little songbird,
Little songbird,
It's time to come play again.
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