Bitter Poems

sitting between you and yourself the unorthodox past I came from a thin planet of sin, indeed, and the sin, Angel and Lucifer, was melting if I could understand happiness I'd be sad,...

I saw you today like yesterday and I howled wolf what if I'd told you we were looking away perhaps in the ground and we made love first I then you never you gave me a cigarette which...

As if I could say it Aloud I swim inwardly (eternally) *** de parca ai putea sa spui cuiva ca inoti doar iin tine (fara speranta)  

#Hill and #Bernie sitting in the #Times First comes small type on the Front Page. Then comes article on Page Twenty Three. Then comes #Bubba Sucking his thumb, Wetting his pants, Doing the...

bum feet street-beat wise sunk in banged up shoes previously dumpster swiped lean hobo soled holed haloed covered in foot funk sock stink grime   no blue suede shoes snappy tassel loafers…   gamy high-top sneakers here retro Corso’s weary worn down creased re-knotted raced in hiked trod...

death is a lime green cadillac with two sleek fins circa 1959 lots of chrome humongous tinted windshield   glides above bumps in the road finds its way to any destination the last...

it’s difficult to know exactly how many of them are gone but the percentage is high   not the one’s who’ve lost their way the fallen down, mis-directed temporarily out...

piss stains on the wizard sheet pulled from last night’s bed southern clown klansman gown fearful eyes beneath a cut­out pillowcase boo inside a bigot’s head black Bible talk behind...

next to my house in a towering maple’s highest crook I’ve wedged an empty soup can open side angled up with a string attached to its bottom end tautly...

Larry, having become a badly aged eyesore Avoided his image in the mirror, But bathroom breaks - much needed -provoked one day uproar What did he see? “A...

oh memory childhood illusion behind what synapse the aroma of smoldering autumn fire suburban side roads softly gauzed in smoky light children’s saturday voices rising from yards family raked weekend chored to the status...

Broken man, your fists, two blue sphinx curled atop a frayed wool blanket guarding what wastes beneath.   And still, that ruthless countenance remembered from childhood… your brute face eyeing me...

sweltering August afternoon Rene Lazare bare foot, bare chested in a leather smock tied over ragged jeans feverishly manipulates pigments bent over an old barn’s floor mixing tube squeezed oils pressing and...

ninety-nine names of God in a hat   choose what you need throw the rest back   take the God without image God without face distort him to service the cause you...