In the beginning was the floor.
Later I slept in the alley
on the cement under the eaves
in the cold.
Or I was standing
one arm up
leaning against the garage.
It’s the future that’s phlegmatic
the sanguine present laughed.
Heaven hell and SRO purgatory
all in my City of Heaven.
Snap quiz: Who said “The spirit
is the soul in the act of knowing
everything else”?
You’ll be sorry cried the past
dragging off his angry ass.
What’s cleverer than kindness
if not yet the full accomplishment of love
at least the taste?
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3 comments:
What a lovely sequence you have going here. It's hard for me to describe my reaction to your poems, Peter -- I love, though, how they are sly and funny and always one step ahead of me. Nimble. And yet I always feel a little chastened after reading your poems, as if I now am required to live up to some ideal I can't quite grasp.
Thanks, Joe. Maybe sometimes I'm a little too kick-ass.
Oh, I don't know. A good ass-kicking is just what's needed, pretty often.
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