and kafka stories
shuffling thru my skull
i’m a mess of
taut lean muscle
and
book smarts
as these rainy
december days
roll beneath my
vans like
ball-bearings
and i trip over
the weeks
and fall into the nightmare
of a new year
with time clocks
unnoticed prose and
shrinking youth
i see carver mopping
floors and cleaning
toilets till his death
i see selby never getting
out of a hospital bed
and over to a typewriter
i see lorca crushed by
the loneliness of new york
and leaping from a towering
tenement rooftop
and i see my own
bearded face
stocking cereal boxes
in a grocery store
run down by life
tire-treads like
typewriter ribbon
torn across my brain
my mind caved in
from an avalanche of
unfulfilled ambition
and words heavy
as anvils—
2 comments:
real good one, Steve
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