I am a poet
I am flawed
From the ground up
To the earth
from the atheist and the extremist
From the slippery afterbirth
who is more fair?
god is an absentee
hanging apelike from the jungle gym
screaming at the free

From the diamond
To the stain of coal
The irony on the moon
that tries to light the way before
succeeding to assume

To touch it is to shatter
the infancy of its face
the innocence in it’s shivering
and the darkness of its space

The stars are more cluttered
than this earth I must deface
my foot steps are so far removed
from the heartbeat’s steady pace

I’m a poet
I am laughing
at myself and nothing more
for to call myself so many things

Is like naming me a whore
who sits upon a rotten man
calling out to god

I am he!
Your sickened, hanging form
your apple eaten worm,
I am he!
Your blatant circumcision
Your nameless Aphrodite.

So boast to other corpses now
blow and fill their sails
they will take you to a distant shore

Of bleeding harpooned whales

Bleating out their families names
a chorus of your conquest
shouting of your three inch prick
and pregnant with your incest

I am a poet
I am flawed
from the ground up
from the north
where the antifreeze
is silent treatment
and the fallen trees
are but a figment
Of warming lighted cigarettes
and smoking bloated pigments.