drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of poesy an old man maddened for the flesh of young girls in this dwindling twilight liver gone kidneys going pancrea pooped top-floor blood pressure.
waiting for death like a cat that will jump on the bed
I am so very sorry for my wife
she will see this stiff white body shake it once, then maybe again
Hank won't answer.
it's not my death that worries me, it's my wife left with this pile of nothing.
I want to let her know though that all the nights sleeping beside her
even the useless arguments were things ever splendid
and the hard words I ever feared to say can now be said:
I love you.
don't undress my love you might find a mannequin: don't undress the mannequin you might find my love.
when God created love he didn't help most when God created dogs He didn't help dogs when God created plants that was average when God created hate we had a standard utility when God created me He created me when God created the monkey He was asleep when He created the giraffe He was drunk when He created narcotics He was high and when He created suicide He was low
when He created you lying in bed He knew what He was doing He was drunk and He was high and He created the mountians and the sea and fire at the same time
He made some mistakes but when He created you lying in bed He came all over His Blessed Universe.