Tuesday, March 18, 2014

From: Jail Poems

30

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread,
But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

-Bob Kaufman

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Locusts and Wild Honey

 
Fat priest sweating,
stock-still in his vestments, gold.

christening of small child, chubby, and parents

fat.

Bone-thin Jesus head-hung vinegar-soaked sickly
photo-bombing.

-JV

Monday, March 10, 2014

From: Song Of Myself

7 
 
Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I 
 know it.
 
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd
 babe, and am not contain'd between my hat and boots,
And peruse manifold objects, no two alike and every one good,
The earth good and the stars good, and their adjuncts all good.
 
I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth,
I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal 
 and fathomless as myself,
(They do not know how immortal, but I know.)
 
Every kind for itself and its own, for me mine male and 
 female,
For me those that have been boys and that love women,
For me the man that is proud and feels how it stings to be 
 slighted,
For me the sweet-heart and the old maid, for me mothers and the 
 mothers of mothers,
For me lips that have smiled, eyes that have shed tears,
For me children and the begetters of children.
 
Undrape! you are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded,
I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no,
And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be 
 shaken away.
 
-Walt Whitman 

Monday, March 3, 2014

Untitled Haiku

The little worm
 lowers itself from the roof
By a self shat thread

- Jack Kerouac 
        1959