Susie Q’s vibrator, pts. 1 & 2
Cliff Notes and chartreuse
sullen notes on a 1914 Steinway Grand
nude, framed
in stolen fabric and/or Fear
playing SNL ’81
forever in debt to divergent motifs
“i’m Peter Pan!,” or “eat my fuck”
blithe regret, nostalgia
nihilistically disillusioned
in my early-middle age
of assignations and whimsy
temporary residence in another fairytale
of ennui and of old lovers
abstraction, and psychological insight
adult truths
beneath my bespoke skeleton
“in order to understand, i destroyed myself”
to trombone and drums
a few prayers
rattled off on an old macchina da scrivere
laconic, insular
on the sleazier side of Sunday
reversing into the subsequent
it’s possible it’s too late to attempt
to make any sense
every opportunity shrugs off sincerity
the tenebrism of the implication
weary, woebegone
six schooners of King’s Ransom
i took a floret and transfixed it through
the forearms of my Lord
facing myself as the light adjourned
1 comment:
The voice you evoke with your poetry is both from another, previous, more evocative and dramatic time and, simultaneously, entirely of your own creation and ownership. It is a voice both recognizable and wholly original. Godspeed you, worthy young Poet!
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