a poem from 5:93 - accepted in edited form (which i have since lost) by Midwest Poetry Review in July 97, supposedly to be published in April 1998. i don't think i ever got a copy of the issue .... so here is the poem, not the original piece, but also not the edited/accepted form either. (i guess that makes sense. in other words, re-edited from the original.) anyway, support those small presses in anyway you can.
still feeling under the weather, but think i'll make it, so i can get back to work in a couple of days. Gees, would hate to be sick going back to work, now wouldn't we? just not quite feeling ready to wrestle any alligators at the moment.
POEM TO EDITOR OF ONTHEBUS
gather the bones in less than symbolic piles
the flesh will burn even as the soul seeks immortality
if every poem is a sin (according to yeventushenko)
then we are all the vilest of sinners
we are designed to be creatures of beauty
-most of us bastard sucking the dirty tits of desperation
finding no nourishment, but inspiration
- soiled & unholy -
we are a discardable bunch
our cancered flesh fit for the fires of your purification
we are the tainted blood in veins
the dirty air you are forced to breath
to curse our imperfection is to curse yourself
the poetry and rambling thoughts of a working class poet
