March 28, 2012

poem 104 of a poem a day for 2012


my drunken gardened rant-hology crawl

fuck all my words
fuck all their sounds
fuck all the time
I litter myself
to be found
fuck all that I see
fuck all of me
fuck every sentence I see
without fuck in it
to be

fucked
on the surface of
every ripe skin
of mine
screaming to bleed
so I dig holes
in myself
and in time
and plant flowers
and wonder why
in rhyme
they’re always red
as if I didn’t
already know
that when I
give a fuck
Love always
grows wine
for crawls
and flows


EJR © 

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