a visitor complains of my disenfranchise…


“hey, man,” he said, “I liked your poems better when you were
puking and living with the whores and hitting the bars and
making the drunk tanks and getting into alley

he went on to talk about his own


what these don’t realize is how ridiculous it is to
remain with the same subject

after some time, the whores really wear: their hard
visions, their curses, their tiny endearments become more than

and as for puking out your guts you can get a share of that
especially when it leads to the stinking death of the
charity wards.

and as for the alley fights I was never too good with the
hatred, I was only seeing if I had a touch of courage–
I found some, and knowing that, there was no further need to

I mean, you can set up a life-style in your poems but sooner or
later you will be found out to be play-acting:   (one only lingers
so long within an area and then it thins, washes away) and, yes,
I still love my booze               but
I can pass the whores, the bars, the drunk tanks without feeling that
I have sold my god damned soul down the bloody dung-filled

the critics would be delighted to again find me in some skid-row
face bashed-in (again) and the flies circling the emptiness of me and
my bottle (again).

always need some Van Gogh some Mozart to feed upon some
some Dostoevsky against a firing wall.
critics consider the ultimate misfortune of another
as a viable art-

as for the end-results of art-forms
I say that these did not choose their pain, that no
reasonable person
especially to be incommunicated from the lecterns of
the universities
or to be flaccidly indented into the pale and dull pages of
or any such lynching of the castrated gibbon of our


of course, I didn’t tell this to my visitor
he was too busy
belching and barfing and woofing and poofing
gurgling the tended libations before him
as he read me his own exploits of the mighty
which were hardly ingenite
barely messed with a minor terror

that loud voice of braggadoccio
those slipping hairy eyebrows

as if living badly were an accomplishment
a very proud

which it could be if properly put

his feet flat upon my floor

he brings me the pain he claims is so very