Whereforto Ye Wanderers

Whereforto Ye Wanderers.



Monday, March 18, 2013

The Walking Dead

The lost friendships turned into fucking zombies,
all That potential wasted,
the lost manuscripts,
found movies,
the texts,
the formerly satisfying typewriter keys,
the young wannabe poets now professor-like
nearly professionals.
     the cats in the wannabe alleys-
squirming in plastic bags
the midnight hour - awaiting.

But I just want for my lunches to be frank o'hara perfect,
barriers broken down
moments tackled with aplomb
,  potential grunge apartment suicides surmounted,
     responsible for once,
and not just for latent disaster.
    -seriously overcome
into a potent little poem
    into a potent little text,
, as the apocalypse,
the end of the fucking world if you will,
  glides casually by our nostrils.

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