Always be a poet, even in prose.
Whore touches self
on parts infected with
stains of old lovers,
Moldy lips cleft,
try to smile;
parted thighs repel,
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“
Rain is Hell.
War is Hell.
Is Rain War?
Rain of bullets
flooding blood, it’s
pouring tears out,
A crackling death.
A Death of God,
Rain and War
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…