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Form is dead 3 minutes and 3 seconds

Basquiat poetry

coffee grains

in my teeth

and dreams

I wake up to the walls in speech

recollect

drunken journeys

Emma the girl who

sits at your window sill

mourning the death of night's child:rain

and it is September

or either

August

I am lost in a booklet of ancient nobles

Upstairs

reading mythology

drinking

***** brewed by patients of poverty

Piano skin and noises

leak into the fire place

all alone

There is no more Time

only windows that shine

only windows that are dark

only women that lay naked on my bed and kiss me

Do not worry

I am not here

writing these

rusty poems

as I slowly push them into the sides of your eyes

Shakespeare eyeball

Ginsberg Navajo

Gas station clerk

high on

crack *******

I give her money

she gives me

a smile

a pack of

Marlboro cigarettes

that stench up the church

hiding the smells of

sad prophets

cheap wine and

oyster crackers

85 cents for off-brand large bag

Adam and Eve

clock time forget sleeve *** spoon food coffe-table

Death moving in down stairs

room

103

or was that the opiates

crawling into the tree veins roots wooden finger tips of my

body

of my

soul

of my

bulb

of my

Skeleton that is colored like you

Termites

mistook

a dying flower

for a limb of a tree

that grew sideways

too avoid the hum buzz of Vehicle Highway I-435 Kansas

Age 400 and 3

Child at birth

Man at death

oh how the seasons brew into a facade

oh how

the *****

sleeps with me

I make her coffee

3am

we smell of smoke and tired souls

pointing at the color red

as we

take lefts

and rights

into a city into bowels of streets and sighing police men and sighing homeless

I take off her clothes and

she falls apart like pedals attached by scotch tape to a rose

Nothing it Rains

Nothing it is Cold

Hello

We are the Nothings

and we

sit alone

on bar stools too high

and our knees are bruised from

praying to the bartender

to

pour

one

more

Whiskey

Yet we drank it all

and the juke box is broken

so we listen to

Homosexual men fuckin'

 

City Cough

Everybody has lung cancer

or is

walking to a 24/7 grave yard

Will I be buried with you?

I ask a mouse

climbing on my walls

to catch a roach

 

But he says nothing

and the roach escapes

only to reply

with

“Yes, you and I.”

my mouth gutters “And he and she.”

and the Rat complies

“And sometimes Why.”

 

Get another drink

April Angel casting a shadow into a lake of bass and crawdads

“Geh me ahnothur dreeenk” drunk lingo speech

***

***

***

Fill your bucket mind

with spatulas

Broken television screens

the toe nails of angels

Piano Keys

 

Spit into a well

Spit into the wine

500 dollars a bottles or 6,154 pesos

make a wish

make a diamond

make steak

make wool

make love

 

My starving father filling up on the apples of Vice

 

Number 3

lights a cigarette in the dark

and the shadow glimmer dance of her

Eyelashes

cheekbones and

Eye bones

and

lip bones

are projected onto the cement wall

an art show

a Ballet suicide attempt

a winter experiment on the Indians of North America

 

Ride a Train

Rise of Tides

Ruthless Killer

Ruthy big breasted girl in my dreams dancing about a fire that I built from

old paintings of my

Grandfather

as Kansas was spilled like hot chocolate milk

 

“Get up”

“and where are you”

“can't you tell it is 1am”

“why has the clock mistaken me for someone who cares”

“lover”

“where are you going”

“the river is too cold”

“you will die like Hemingway did”

“you will die”

“i will die”

“Hemingway will die”

“but not tonight”

 

Shakespeare.

Tapping on my window.

He gives me.

A pill.

We take a bus too New Orleans.

And visit the grave of William.

 

Cold coffee

Caramel popcorn

Southern Cut Marlboro

Telephone

Lampshade crooked

asking

attempting

 

Under my eyes

engravings of a crescent moon

from gazing up

on so many nights

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
savio
American
Published
Apr 23, 2013
Lines·Words
185·694
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