Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Here's a Poem That Will Never Achieve Escape Velocity

It’s not a verb
nor a noun of sound
wet hands furiously bail
the carpet stains
behind crusty pink lids
bleach fumes fester
nothing in here

clue two
bagpipe blues
play the smell
a loose diaphragm flap
a ruptured balloon
the sting of the one handed clap

lost words
count strands
of disjointed utterances
following the bomb
a cruel Schlitz shit
sprays down
into one pant leg

----June 6, 2010

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