More of the Gross poems. I've actually found inspiration in this term. Also, my life is a horrifying depression, so why not find beauty in the gross? Is it like flarf? Who knows? Who the hell knows what flarf is anyway? Not me, gentle reader.
New links are up. Robert Szot is an amazing painter who I adore and who gives me drinks. Kseniya Yarosh is a talented zinester/artist/social commentator who put together my chapbook and who kisses me daily.
Here's my poem:
PURE VOMIT
The thoroughfare. Parades always end like this.
I pride myself on my work. It is always about
the pure biology of a given ejaculation, given
moments, I take them. I used a paper plate
with straying stains of former barbecue foods
to wipe the liquid from my face, rubbing
till sore to clean my beard. This is a change
in my ongoing descent, one that always nestles
in my skin waiting for a proper or improper moment.
There are things on my lips, dangling liquidly.
The pavement seems a very nice canvas and,
more than that, social commentary! My face
is pointed in a given direction and that direction
symbolizes the future but it is really just
a direction, one which I will now take in my quest
to find the purity of vomit.
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2 comments:
What a great site, how do you build such a cool site, its excellent.
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Your are Nice. And so is your site! Maybe you need some more pictures. Will return in the near future.
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