happy 30

birthday_poetry

 

 

 

happy thirty
happy death
happy where are we

I have traveled
inside a cave
crushed inside skin
dried patches of skin
hands callous
the incurable stink of walking
over distance
dark distances

I have traveled
in dangerous caverns
falling, screaming
repeating

savagely
for thirty years
scavenging
closing in on those
scarce drips of essence
those impossible puddles of truth

inside a cave

where I begin to feel like shadow
dark layer upon dark layer
going nowhere

I already hear them singing:

happy happy thirty
happy birthday
joyous shadow
lost lost lost in time

 

 

 

nihilistic poetry

and the bone and the flesh and the

bukowski quote

‘flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh’

the stoic
had spoken
or written these words
which is never the same
thing

he could have been
an Epicurean
but was too
libidinal
to fit the term

pleasure, yes
but excess?

but I’m not
here to
judge
or compare

simply to
repeat
on my twenty-
eighth
finished year:

‘flesh covers the bone and flesh searches for more than flesh’


wouldn’t that make
a great
bedtime story?