by Poetry

there were times
               late at night
when I needed you

                              just an arm’s length
               away & so far gone

for fear of waking
               I crept away
& walked home & sat
a decapitant
                        on a metal bench
outside the converted church

                              where could I go
               then for my conversions

                              where could I rest
               heavy hands & long
                              for the cool breath
               of the holy

in the rain suddenly
               false teeth retching
cigarette smoke

                              I pretend not to smoke
                              I barely pretend
               to breathe

took heroin last night
               the first time
in years I think
I’ve forgotten how
               to be high
forgotten how to
be an addict

I bought red wine
from a 24/7 & left it
sitting beside my bed
               I can open it anytime
I only need to need
a corkscrew
more than I need to sleep

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modern poetry


cigarettes & two words –
le bel! Le bel!
shouted over the water, momentary
madness our bondage
freed in chains, exultation free in
passionate strings;

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...

Finding Life Prosaic

fingers bleeding prosaic, money
to clog arteries and veins,
to quell the rise and flow of


I ask their mirrors
clutching the remains
of some stolen loves &
trying to light ash again;
why me?