WWIV

Animal

Kind of friendly. I am broken.

Machines can cease to function.

Through the wreckage and the cracks

Poems ooze to life.

When verses are articulate,

Though badly punctuated,

And express the animal,

The soul – they're beautiful.

Shakespeare had a long career

Doing nothing else.

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Contrast

The boisterous, loud and vulgar mob

Is laughing. Are they happy?

Here in Denny's, 4 a.m. -

Do not glance at them.

Just several hours ago I lay

On firmness wrapped in softness

And quiet in my cluttered room,

And slept. Sweet paradise.

In a week I hope I'll have

Another MP3,

Not defective. Music will

Obliterate the noise.

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WWIV

The weapons of the planet's next

War will supersede

Anything used heretofore,

Permanent and lethal.

After that, the planet's wars

Will probably be fought

With broken sticks and rocks by mutants

Crawling from a cave.

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Bad

I was trash and lots of sex,

And passing bad intentions,

Like a robot gone bizarre

With a faulty program.

Why do I perceive the past

As something gay and gentle?
Everything that irks me now

I did when I was younger.

I wrecked a house and broke a heart,

Two hearts. I growled at god -

Mocking him my single most

Commendable achievement.

Alive and feral and untamed,

Escaping from a master,

I wrote verse then, and it was verse

As only angels write.

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In Denny's

For a moment I was young,

Surrounded by two bodies,

Gentle, rugged, tall and calm.

I was not excited.

But like an active memory,

A concept of emotion

Took my body and my mind.

And I was not alone.

Although a man in coitus looks

Into another's soul -

A perfect touch – nothing could

Be lonelier than that.

It was the present, but it had

The weight of memory.

2-28-14