I try poems #1

Fire Daddy

The sight of him tasted like her

Bottom lip until hot iron

Coursed down her throat and burnt

A hole in her starving stomach

Penny Candy

If you look for yourself

You’ll just find everyone’s .02,

Which won’t buy much

Beyond sweets a hundred years ago.

Sticky mouth melting stomach burn

Eventually shit shit shit

Rotted out teeth.

Difficult to speak through gums,

Now even those are .25

Lastingless flavor.

You’re better off with cocaine –

Your nasal cavity already exists.

Won’t need to smell anyway,

Not like you gotta publicly grinchew.

A Man

I want Bukowski’s balls,

Not in a jar,

That wouldn’t castrate him.

I want the hunched stench of truth

Forcing my fingers to strangle neck

Until hoppy life fills hollow

As the day it was born.

I’ve never seen Hank’s balls,

But I think they would’ve hung

Low like the tips of a frown until they were balls

Slapping thighs,

Carrying him under all of that smelly, hunching weight.

Freezing warm words

Against a wall, Make love to woman

Because you are a man.

I feel gritty and real, and not alone and I am inspired.


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