FLOOD
poetry should
come
in flood
to be
any good
he said, this
bar room
brawler, boozer
of the word
did
and who am I
to pick
a fight with him
(what kind of
Charlie would I then be?)
and truth be told
hate the very
thought of once
more into
the rewriting, yet
more drafting
the thing with a mind to
resist, go
where it secretly insists,
be the
very soul
of entropy
and here we are
draft five, six, eight
or seven
express elevator down to Hell
it feels, no
stairwell to
melodic heaven
fast and furious
brain to paper
nothing lost
perfect tbirty seconds
and me, slaving away to
be
contrapuntal, speak
counter-
argument
wondering, dear reader,
dear reader
how so many of you
so so quick
to come
to snap judgement
make slick quick poetic love
to the smokey
soul of this man
who would not have
you touch the poem
until it
scresms at you
insisting
on birth
insisting on life
life on the line
down with an offer you
dare not refuse
****
LUMINE
you wound me
up like
a clockword
gave me
an extra turn
then pushed
me to the limit
harder a taskmastee
more cruel
in your tutelage
than Tarantino’s Pai Mei
but when
we broke that limit
my limit
brought me back
from a death
that bird sang a song
sweet fluting lyric that
touched
the firmament
poems 2 die for 