Sunday, July 5, 2009

I pay no attention
to my own sufferings--

they are the yowlings
of insignificance

from the delusions of self
that make hells of heavens

and pains of terror that look
to others like grimaces of gas


now what the hell are you doing
I ask myself

now why the hell are you asking
I reply

I was just showing concern
I said

I pardon you
I answer


your cunt and your asshole
so sweet on my tongue

I remember
I remember
I remember 

how much I want it again


I thought I was getting too old for this shit

but like Yeats's late poems
or Dylan's mature masterpieces

I do my time as old goat

hot hot hot fo' da stuff
and how


some kinda apocalypse approaching

and all I can do is peer through the blinds
and blink at the amazing daily circus

scratching the back of my head with a thumbnail--
what new world--thousands of years from now

people will peer and scratch--they'll likely be us again--
still wondering when the Galactic center

will gobble us up

                                    Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

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