Thursday, August 23, 2012

Poem by Larry Gilmore


01 11 10

possible path walking down and up
I copied it from a signpost

placed there by a lost traveler
scratching his head in the dark

I’ve never studied form
which is why this has so much

the moss upon the rock
it’s the best I can do under the circumstances

clichés, all of it stolen, ripped off
it’s all and only what I’ve heard

or read rattling about my cranium
like dice thrown upon the page

we walk along the river
my head cocked to the right

I breach the phenomena storm
on the far side of life

I walked so far I thought I’d die
but on life went

dragging me on to the next time
the kid stood outside throwing rocks at the inside

they just wouldn’t quite penetrate
things go bump in the night, stark, raving, naked

he defecated on a plate before a crowd
the crowd urged him on and on…

tonight I felt enchanted
Jazz radio scoring the mood

wine wine wine wine wine
the debauch must go on

the  Dionysian Bachanal
what a comfort

_____________________

Poems by Larry Gilmore will appear in AlteredScale.com 2. He lives in San Francisco.

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