the wild one.

 

 

 

It's not even fair for the old to write poetry.

I mean, there should be some personal exemption

on a box you put an x in on a 1040, or perhaps

an exemption as that of the Israelites

from the slaughter of the first born.                                  Because

 

I believe that the old thoughts you put in the universe

come back, and then back again like the holy cat

you thought for three weeks had gone off forever,

only to return, but this time submissive, its hair missing

in spots along with an eye.

 

Could he have fallen out of love, been attacked by a gang

of thugs, Marlon Brando as Johnny Stabler, Johnny Stabler

as Marlon Brando in "The Wild One" in 53; I forget,

the earth and the moon can be converse, you know?

 

So being pathetic, being in a state of constant,

contemptuous pity is an ascription to human traits

like wanting the sensation of being loved, the pathogenesis of it,

even when you know it may just be painful

 

because an old Frost is like any old spice you keep in

the dusty rack with the others, when you need a certain flavor

its there even though its unknown what Zahtar is for,

what it does to the ozone. The river.

 

And although I can claim not to be religious, the sun is so thick

on the fifth Sunday of Lent. The Black Rebels would secure

a place somewhere in our poetic psyche's, a place flavored

with quiescence in our hearts for the anti-hero

to return, to smile like a skeleton with the nice girl. Then

to offer his trophy before exiting the good morning. Even

longer until 'I miss you' freezes the teeth before

saying.

Reviews

[Clara]

You're such a gifted writer that I don't even know how to express it.

[K. Louis]

You're just so talented. There's always something to come away with here. :)

[Ken Simm.]

I could sit and listen to this told to me forever. It is rich and layered but with the smoothness of a 25 yr old scotch. It is a deep as old walnut grain and absolutely pitch perfect.

[Corset]

Often I find myself wondering if the reader should walk stiffly away from your poems or fall on their knees in worship with their arms spread in childlike supposition in front of them like they do in the Mosques. It's a beautiful trophy, shiny, hearts want what they want, miss who they do, luckily, most are large and encompass much in friendship.