I don’t really use the word as often as I should.
Stick with scrawny, sickly,
I used to mind looking like Iggy Pop or
Hunching like Huncke.
Though looked more like Degrassi.
to the hyperbole
of the mirror.
I refused to shower publicly.
It got pretty increasingly uncomfortable.
Until I found my dance steps (and
the proper constituents
upon which to prop myself into
their fractal-like groove. )
What bothered me wasn’t shame
or a feeling of inferiority because.
I am either far too crazy or intelligent
to never think it was either.
I think I just hated the idea of buying into
this neo-gym lifestyle that’s since come
into its own like some new Reich
I have drank myself a lizard king
proud Irish belly,
It’s a small pot.
But it gives me a strange,
and unsettling sense of joy.
I haven’t been in too many
I couldn’t squeeze myself
Outta, given time and some
Extra credit. If you haven’t seen it well,
that’s just that I haven’t written it
It’s like being in a tug of war with your inner Christ.
Better yet, Your inner-Christian Troy.
It’s like forcing the lids to flicker as fast as they can.
just be an animal like the rest.
And that’s what scares you most.
That was when I was young. All in the past now.
Got fat on tricks and Tuolumne,
Radio late night tunes that
wound a wire up over my head.
Left the shaking markings of a laser point,
took the balance to the wind,
like something out of a movie.
Something good and real.
Like the 49th poem bestowed
With the millionth listen to Davis’
Like the speeches I made on
Beaches and oceans, howl-ready like
The old Wolf himself was.
Out on some mescal.
Out on some whiskey binge.
Been out in every kind of weather.
Whether and for the better or not,
Its still, its right, its just,
Eating Kubla Khan for breakfast.
Im a fucking Champ now.
Gonna get a big degree,
Smash the insecurity
Right out of the ugly coliseum,
back into a green exhumation,
out into the vacuum of my dreams.
Where hari-kari, it will riminate,
likely start some kind of fire.
Something to keep my frail
ass warm when the time