Thursday, July 7, 2016

poem of the day 07.07.16

ninety degrees in brooklyn
with writer’s block

on my way
to work
a wasted morning of no words
a sweating
blob of pasty
white privilege flesh
with no discernible talent
dying in the dog days
like a hard turd
stuck up
a rank and festering
hemorrhoid ass
oh how
this city stinks
come july
my balls itching
my soul floundering
and ready
to burst purple
i watch
a thin
stray tabby cat
licking open
garbage bags
spilling rice
and rancid meat
onto the wet pavement
like he’s found
a pot of gold
like he’s
the goddamned king
of brooklyn
this hazy
ugly morning
with all the answers kept
locked and away from us slaves
in his wide
and almond


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