Monday, February 8, 2010

orange fatherland

ouzo in my head
my protégé the ham and flavored butter
warden is looking at me again

dry gin, she is explaining why I
deserve a coup de grace
oh man, just shut up and drink

won't you get down town?
yelling in the retro phone box and
served pernod by maître d'

metropolitan is a wasp's nest
which I prefer to the masturbating desolate tract

Irish whiskey in the canal
municipality of nightmares
of vinegary smelling barbed wire
a camel outside the hotel room

4 comments:

Francis Scudellari said...

I prefer the wasp nest too, though I'm not much of a drinker. This nicely captures a swimming mind.

Gerry Boyd said...

Crisp and powerful this. Great to spit out loud if you know what I mean. You can almost feel the saliva spraying.

Jenny Enochsson said...

Very comical images, PO. I imagine this poem being read by a person with a dead pan face and a monotonous voice.

Megan Duffy said...

This is so sharp, PO.

"vinegary smelling barbed wire"

I can taste that smell on my tongue.