no title
I am drinking the colyte
waiting for the test
a hollywood colon
I am drinking Guara
waiting for the rest
a Winter salon
I am drinking
and my son is
falling
I am drinking to
find the snowglobe that is cancer inside
and the chldren come and go
unable to sleep on the late fall night
The glass breaks
the class breaks
into a million fragments
and I have to go because
i need to be clean on the inside.
My son, my only son
lost like blue fish fighting in the bowl
he is pot and mushrooms
on a Sunday night
and I am bleeding,
Who has time to stop the reign
the powers are too much
tide to pulling to gain ground.
Hollywood colon
tomorrow a semi-colon
a snowglobe
lost in the the desert.
posted by Jes at 11:03 PM
3 Comments:
Jesse, I feel as if I know you a bit, from Chandler talking about you at Brunneburg and reading your poems. There is strength and anger and something occluded in your work. I look forward to more.
This blog seems to be moving very slowly, not many posts. I check in frequently, I suppose people are scattered in the aftermath.
Well, the occluded part could be that I had an invasive procedure to check for cancer this morning. They found only polyps and one small thing to biopsy. No worries!
J
Sorry you had to endure any kind of bodily invasion, glad it turned out ok.
You seem to be the driving force on this site. Can't you challenge the other writers to get with it? Or are they off being too busy intensively writing in their own little spaces? I myself, am just lurker here.
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