People mean well. Then they grab your dog. Two girls are carrying a cage full of kittens. I’m supposed to find a rock. She’s on top of me. There’s a child in a ditch. Talking to God’s like jerking off. It doesn’t matter how many times. Before he was cut into pieces. The day he was hanged. Winter’s folding into a Boeing 747. I can feel the cells in me strengthening.
----------------
this is a poem (?) I read at So and So last Saturday Night. It is an index, collage, whatever, of first sentences from Holy Land. If anyone ever wants to publish this they'll have to deal with the fact that it's on this blog. And that an MP3 file of it's on 10 CDs I gave away with the purchase of my book there in Boston and then again in Cedar Falls, Iowa this past Thursday. (which by the way, Iowa, CF, that is, is a great place to visit. Enthusiastic, friendly teachers and students. Friendly even to me, a die-hard, and I will die hard--yeah, yeah, atheist like me.)
No comments:
Post a Comment