Always be a poet, even in prose.
À CHARLES
Whore touches self
on parts infected with
stains of old lovers,
vile caresses…
Moldy lips cleft,
shriveled flesh,
try to smile;
parted thighs repel,
reveal
sadness, sickness, deep inside.
Whore touches self now,
applying youth magic …
remembering long agos,
drying dimmed holes
Prose Poems: Slice / Life (annoyances, episodes)
“after reading some of your ‘poetry’ on the internet, I think you should be institutionalized“
Violent, Wanting
A violent whore at
6 AM accosts
me on
West Broadway
She screams
"I know you!"
and "You be mine!"
and "We can get together!"
She is big (goo goo
g'joob), this whore and
violent,
like I say
...accosts
me. I toss
down the deli
bag I'm traipsing
up the street with. Put my
dukes up, daisy chain
resistance...Rain
insists
on giving
me a
look like I
might storm here. Still,
I, fearful, give it up and
run, this violent whore
behind me. At
West 4th Street,
we pop in
for breakfast
(coffee, scones,
hot buttered toast)
...A host of information
laced with
epithets
from Betsy's lips:
stock tips and racing anecdotes,
a quote from Nipsy
Russell...Then a-
rousal
like a sewer
drain burps
up to wet
our whispers.
And we whistle down
West Broadway,
violent wanting
in the
rain.
@Medium: “New York is Homeless” … a photo poem
Sweet Melissa: “Ripe, Delicious“
War Drops
Rain is Hell.
War is Hell.
Is Rain War?
Rain of bullets
flooding blood, it’s
pouring tears out,
Thunder strikes:
A crackling death.
A Death of God,
a-sizzle…
Rain and War
are Hell.
Rain’s near…
Five Eastern Time
Wind from the East when the sky turns blue.
There’s not much left, but I’ll give it to you…
It’s my heart and my throat and this breeze swirling brightly.
It’s dreams that I sing of and fade away nightly…
She walks with great turbulence, smiles with ease;
she lost, spinning gently, you down on your knees…
There are worlds beyond towers, a pride in the sky;
there’s a fear and a hatred we’re all going to die.
Dying lights…Blink and sway out like smiles in canyons.
Trees wist of warnings with reckless abandon.
Madonnas collapse here and laugh at our wond’ring
The streets take a nap here as daylight comes thund’ring.
…Haze lifted now, I see nothing as clearly:
Dawn brings a vision, and peace I love dearly…
Jeff Glovsky INK 