I used to jump
on the old tramp
out back but not
with flips and
twists and twirls,
like I see on tv.
If I had I don’t
think the poor tramp
could have taken it
but would have instead
squirted blood and
guts and gore,
like I see on tv.
Day: August 18, 2008
i cant take warm beer in the morning
poetrythe decisions we make
with swollen prostates
(not from what you’d think)
but too long a ride
through too bumpy a road
and some beautiful scenery
with dead pigs impaled
on motorcycle saddles
breathing seconds
poetryi have plunged
back into the stream
of time head first
plugging my nose
unused to the
measured ticks and
climbing numbers
counting up (actually
down) and i again
feel the inevitability
of tomorrow as
one does a collapsed
lung.
the sieve and the sand 