Chasers

by Poetry

lynched between the library & addictions
Miller exploded in me again; all God suddenly
eternal in the world

                                         she couldn’t answer
                                         she was the language

holy thoughts come rising in
the sinner’s chest; surrendered saintliness
to God in the night

                                          she couldn’t answer
                                         from within your thighs
                                     or I couldn’t hear her

as a natural sinner, as a manufactured
evil I
found passions,
dreams,
hopes of redemption stronger
than a gentler path of
holiness;

wounds sharper
erections stronger &
joys infinite if
spiralling regret – like chasers to weak drinkers

Miller always hits me hard. Even when the drinking doesn’t work anymore, & I can’t get anywhere near hot, & all the bone-chills come on when I’m out of pills & needles & all that shit. I could give up every drug & never drink again, I think, if only Miller would roll in the back of my head & drown my ears & eyes & leave his sickly, holy taste upon my tongue.

Free eBooks

poetry
modern poetry

River Desire

creations bare bones
now fresh frost curves nudity
living silken suit
sky heaves as life leaves
tense and laboured atmosphere
ice rolls and rises

A Red Dress

A red dress, and said “when you were a boy”; I choked on love; I was a boy and you were the night forest – lost, scared, alone in you, alone with the wind moans through bracken branches making a stranger’s bed with my name engraved in the headboard, with...

The Tudor

Presented without comment, dedicated to memories and dreams. Such a strong vulnerability; like moonlight on the lighter as you try another cigarette, hoping, this time, to burn outin smoke and spittle the pure body of art; My beauties bled from between my lipsmixed...

If I Were A Carpenter (Dream 5)

Mr. Benson, There’s a tragedie to those singer-songwriters who whine into a microphone with great art and mutter of love in clever rhyme and never really know what it is. They agree with their predecessors, maybe with a modern twang, and try to crucify their hearts on...