Poetry is not the world
A poem for World Poetry Day
Poetry is not the world
And neither am I
neither is the unceasing tension
at the root of my chest
thrashing and twisting
against the pellucid air
To dare to live
is to doubt
at all
in damage turns the flourishing ass
when you feel like it
But one music
in my name
is kinder than no notes
against it
Kiss the giant middle finger
in the sky
and lose your love or spit it all out again
There’s always an answer
from beyond the other side of nothing
Come on now
later still
one’s still rough enough for touch
the yellow piss-soaked grass