no sleep for bleeders

--

w/ back against the wall
sigh the red light of O
what frustrates blinks dumbly
like a lemur in a headlight
i love skin in a tv glow
head to the knees the hour
screams, sad brick of night
hold me to this bed, sleep
you stay away or i cut you

--

rimbaud for an hour, hemingway for two
somewhere in there touch on pound and if
one wants to wrestle with the death of
romance this is a recipe i'll reccomend

--

there is an end of road i dream

--

no instrument, no voice, no song.
two guys with eyes. four hands.
creatures die slow, what is music.
an empty room. silent are two chairs.
dare the walls to touch us now.

Comments

[j†]

So good...

Tonight, I will mince this poem into my casserole with a pinch of garlic and bake at 375. We'll all be better for it. Scott. It's what's for dinner.

You fantastic insomniac.

like a lemur in a headlight
-hit the gas
you stay away or i cut you
-with these sharp and heavy
touch on pound
-ezra likes it rough
dare the walls to touch us now
-triple dog

nice. i also love skin in a tv glow. i have a wonderful memory of it in a particular city with a particular person. though i've never been able to capture that in a poem. maybe i'll try some time.

[Susan]

Ok.