Saturday, May 12, 2007

Barely Alive

I'm alive but barely even able to keep thinking it
Perhaps because I am so clearly sinking,
And there’s no way to go through this cold knee-deep snow,
You know, no way to plow or go round or straight through,
And there’s no way to turn but which way the wind blows…

The demons in the new-grown crops have a compass up their butt
And are ready for a fling; they are ass-deep
In it all with minor sins and little limp things, and,
Handsome though sins sometimes are, they’re nobody’s friends.

Oh sing it all to me, little sister, you’re so pretty,
I want to kiss you in the very worst way, I want to engulf you,
Devour you, imagine you, impregnate you, turn you
Promptly from a ghost to a cloud that covers me.

So bring us on home from there,
We are friends to the mangy cat and the dog who lifts its leg.
The arrows on the highway are pointing in every direction
But here, and we are lost on a well-known road.


  1. Oh my, that is so powerful, my friend, but it reeks of despair.
    Pain sure tunes up the artist in you. Seems an awfully high price to pay. x


Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)