Dirt's Poetry Corner

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Zooming from the cave,
The saviors of god’s drunken work,
Descendents of the Gregorians and the amoeba,
Hearts are checker pieces,
Minds as precarious as any burning blueprint,
They meet yearly and put themselves in each other’s minds,
The universe has put them here as it put milk in the tit,
For life.
Some can fly and it is for you that they fly.
Some can dance and it is for you that they dance.
Some can mop and it is for you that they mop.
Some can look at you and keep a straight face,
And it is for you that they do as such.
So they say, business is bad, glory is bad,
But honeycombs and matching pajamas are good.
So, they help when they can and they look in the sun when they can’t.
So, they sew mittens in August.
So, they rebuild V8’s and keep up with the top 40.
So, they forget everything which is wasteful,
They are still hung over from one night sixty years ago,
They will never be satisfied and will never seek to be so,
They will live next to you and keep their lawn in better shape than you,
They will outlive you and your children,
They are silhouettes and when you say you can’t see their face,
They’ll say, “Lucky you.”
They are more than god and less than you;
They are leaving the cave and tonight it will be empty,
And you will never know it.

Dubs


trip wire

in slipping now dipping, it’s excellent
A perfect pageant softness quell,
I’ll be forgiven on judgment day
or so
Or so was said
or so was faked
…legion its perfect sort of coughing, running wild.
i eat nothing that helps, no sleep helps,
No dreams ending as beginnings will truly hold the shelf.
butcher, beaten, coldly tracing the lovely pattern bruises of domestic,
how do you say, how do you stay domestic, with pencils and pens, with
Post it reminders, empty senseless binders
We
Must
learn
to
starve.

Dirt