the happy fist

DS

I was that blissful
the world was nothing
just me and space
take your poem Joy:

in the morning dawn
in your sun joy
in the morning being
one

your head in
your hand
new life
feeling loving
our own

ever hopeful
burning rivers in my head
then you flee
leaving me alone

the things I fear
the dreams
o my soul
aware at last
the landscape
eventually
different
love the real
the young
and bare
never think
and know
the same

we shared
the gift
at last
of me
of you
of life
skies
first light
hopeful
bright
begin

*

when harry met sally
in casablanca

the world is a wasteland
beautiful hon your horn

nobody wants to hear my
vitriol even poetry has to be

restrained contained ds cuz
no one likes a whiner even

I don't I can't stand me right now
my head gets so full of shit

even my ordinary delusions of grandeur are humble
don't take me serious ds I am

just a note of dust adrift
in the great didactic toilet

you are a poet
I am just an asshole

& I happen to be a dick too
plus my breath reeks of garlic

decay and nuclear porn
the leaves are crumbling

each brick a slap in the face
I'm not good looking socially

unadapted I pee in water bottles
and spill them on pavements

telling people its mtn dew
gone flabby speaking

of cocks I'm sorry I went
flaccid when you beheaded

the other night I was
thinking about judith butler

performing gender and class
reproduction I wonder what am I

supposed to do as a poet educator
manager producer author

itarian murderer fuhrer poophead what is love
in less than 100 words how do we do what we do

so what it is pooh bear
we are consumers

fumers the boomers tumors ill humors of mu
peer into my eye and tell me I am not you