First goddamn poem of the year

drunk new years

I’m tired or writing
the new year
or what’s left
someone said last night
that the academic
of sociology and economics
was shifting
I didn’t know a thing
even after all the books
I read or bought.
All I have is a scotch
and the lazy poems
of an ex-german poet
that lived in Los Angeles
plus the
40% plus
that keeps me awake
through the long nights
of the wasted
– such a beautiful word-
the unneeded
of the drunk

between words and things

Am I the apparition

between this thought

and you, the thing-

in-itself coming through

the flooded veins of my perceiving

with this thing there

constituting my content

while I compose its name

we are united in the poetic theme

of the present moment –

and that thing

is no other than my fragmented self

losing the virginity of conception

the birth of the concept

allowing life, my life

merge with the myriad voices of yours

closely knitted with the linen of a dreamt world

as closely as two poets speak

from unreachable regions of being

hills of this journey

how to be human


becoming is still in our bloodstream.


Nihilistic Poetry