(2014)
so, i’m in this spiritual war. maybe you aren’t, but i am. many great losses
we go walking around walking all over this town nothing ever getting us down cause we’re just a couple of clown…
my spirit sings to you, clears and quickens. losing you is impossible
finally, without knowing it was coming, he got to die. it was great. like a birthday party clown, he was equally the center
got the sex drive of 15 young bulls, but the women are all scared.
liking to say things, all kinds of things, mostly about the way things seem
now, I’m no Bukowski but my friends who don’t like poet… except his stuff, tell me they like mine, and I can drink like a drinking machine
if i stub my fucking toe it’s their fault so say i, and who could argue? you almost
first fruits hardly a handful, the garden
nobody goes mad on purpose, also never is it not shared,
love me past the edges, stances and masks, deeper than i know things.
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,
just remember we are so much more than words. shadows are beautiful too but let’s not
does a king come ready– made, or doesn’t he emerge from a prince once a frog, and aren’t you
was all stupid. you weren’t that entertaining. i find it all only sad now, that
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