From the 2019 Collection "2222"
#222 #2222 #comedy #existential #gulag #jmartindean
III Too late to call vagrancy a fad, an experiment. I am too old and still at it. But it isn’t like I am separate
I know people see him and think, “Gee, that’s crazy.” Which makes it embarrassing to see him
Praise those who sit and wait for nothing. Who sit still and know they are owed nothing. On the mat each inhalation
Formulate an agenda Make friends. Label enemies. Identify beliefs. Re-examine.
(1) Under an open window I gaze out until the wonder is gon… Having run out of questions I fal… but perk up when a stray cat appea…
Oh, Death! Two beers and I’m on my back! Skipped the shower, skipped the toothbrush. Just a film of sweat,
Want nothing from people and receive their myriad blessings Expect from them and find an empty well Eat less than a ghost
Walking lakeside, I try to discern what the frogs a… but their drone is one collective… Diving again and again after the secret,
S, I gotta tell you, this sixty-five cents is worse than a lump of coal. I pray the remover of obstacles
Curling black from crematorium sta… tell me again the hoax of the soul… The cowl paces, pretends to be faceless, swinging silver and wafting saccha…
Nirvana is acquittal, wearing sweatpants in an empty cou… drunk, singing songs about the Southland. God has fashioned my heart like a…
With a sword karma sets straight what’s veered. By her sword does Justice dispense simply
The bar room is a bed of embers fanning themselves expediently, huddling to outlast the dark. A whoosh of autumn air ruffling their complexion each time
Two onyxes atop another out where the witch frolics, the signal clear, it rang through my throat so loudly I frightened myself:
It occurs to me now that no one hears my song. Still young, I am discarded. I don’t anticipate being surprised at my aloneness in old age.