Box Poems: X strong by V long

? #1
Sirens sound
On the last ambulance ride
though I’m alone, at least
I know
the dogs howl me to my end.

? #2
Pubis razed
immature spectacle rules
the scepter ascendant
and the mature heart, halted
unable to keep it up to youth.

? #3
George A. Romero’s
Poem of the Dead
rises wearily from the pens
of millions
to gnaw toothlessly on air.

? #4
“I’d rather work and make money,”
he said truthfully
forcing my retreat into cups
my cold retreat into dread and a dream
of absolutely necessary extinction

? #5
There’s a woman dancing
in flowing robes, tossing flowers
merrily she twirls and laughs
raising my spirits; she is my spirit
count the ways I want her dead.

? #6
Whiskey maidens
in stiletto and spurs
killing ravens
blood-letting birds
their odes to joy do weaken.

? #7
I reside
in the stale cigarette air
of bars, of squats, of noontime
at the mitternacht of my health
waiting for magic, for the wand to swing.

? #8
I see a silhouette
through frosted glass
It looks like you
I wish it was
It isn’t.

?# 9
Grief is a shriveled balloon
reinflated; singed arm hair,
resprouted; dead loved ones,
reincarnated –
Jesus fuck! Can you imagine?

? #10
Candor in a bag of laughter
Flirtatious winks on the porno-set
Hysteria at the hot-end of the crowd
Circling vultures over the tofurkey
We’re always getting it wrong.


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