Poem of the Day 07.24.08

07.21.08

there is so little
left of me
to get up
i feel as though i am
scattered like birds
being kicked around
on the pavement.
everywhere i turn
i see another piece
of me
another poem
in another journal
on a web site
another memory
perverted
lost to art.
and if this is the way
i end
then it should be.
after all
i worked for it.
i am too tired
to stir things up
anymore
attempt something new
at least i am right now.
all the poems written
seem like drivel to me.
all the world is sadness.
and i am sitting here
talking a child
through her boredom
thinking it’ll be
three days
until i can drink
the wine of the gods
and get myself
a little taste of life
in this wretched
month
you philistines
call july.