the fingers go where/
even as i begin
the burn sets in.
they gave me gabapenten(sp) and relaxers
i fear those meds more than anit vaxers.
()
aaaaaaaand we're through rhyimng for the day
unless one comes mewling like a stray
unless the poem tells me what to say
i feel my rhymes are too mundane
but maybe it's practice to just get back into
the one thing i once said whas just what i do
write and write till tongue cleaves to palate
forgoing dutties, food, eating word salad.
i thought i could do both, have a lover and poetry
but one just got smaller, the other took over
my life is filled waiting for things to be done
brush your teeth, shower shit shave
with only 10 minutes to get there in time
or only 10 months till i clean up your grime
it's hard not to cave to the inevitable
i'll have to trash all this myself, cuz you are a mess.
i bught a new mattress, it arrives on the 20th
i'll sleep on it only a while
till i earn my vacation and take back my room
the one you moved into like tide.
i will sweep out your ocean of bric-brac
move all of my stuff back in
don't worry, i still want to cuddle your back
but i no longer want to give up my den.
you stay in this half and i'll stay in mine
we can meet in the evenings when we have time
aaaaaaaaaaand we're still rhyming!
)(
gotta say i love the blog.
i just closed the above, a big x on the window
and blog saved it all.
it's time for me to get ready to end my vacation.
at least now i can say i wrote duting it.
viola!
*
posted by hiccup at 8:29 AM
6 Comments:
I dropped half a roach down the side of my car so I got out on my knees and searched underneath and an entire joint appeared, along with the cigarette
I'm sitting here watching my cat dying.
It's been a long slow process and maybe tomorrow
He'll be back up and eating again.
I've always considered a blessing
To go quickly, quietly, and in my sleep.
That's why it was good news to me
That gabapentin and alcohol don't mix
Unless what you want to do
Is stop breathing.
Here on the coast of the Gulf
A few miles inland from the bay
Wind whips the porch curtains
With a Storm's voice.
Creak of the aluminum awnings
A bespoken promise .
It's been so dry across the South
Every campfire a looming bomb
Set to destroy miles away
Lighting my last cigarette
Under the cover of porch screen and concrete
The sky outside promise my ex made.
Oh s*** that last line. Promise twice in the same poem. A short poem at that. So how you going to fix that, anonymous post? you could change the first promise to another word perhaps threat? And of course the last line should read the sky outside a promise my ex made.
Or the first promise could just be eliminated which would make it be simply bespoken. Which could work.
Yeah make it threat. Just removing it will not work. And I just can't find a different word. Anyway I promises are often threats or rather threats are often promises. Both often go unfulfilled. Particularly by my ex.
woah
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