Saturday, May 03, 2008

Saturday Poem (Hotel in my Forehead)

There is a hotel in my forehead

I blame the hotel for the silent brown desk

The concierge brings the medicine to my room

The white soap dish by the tub is full of faint blue hair

Daisies are polite flowers

The guy looking for "Ritchie" on the roof across the street

The damage a poet starting a men's magazine could do

You can speak to me without devices

Provoking animals with political buttons

Strange things happen to people the entire time that they're alive

What it did to you was unspeakable

A mad horse, a light flash

More of us have to die until all of us are dead

Why don't you read one of your little poems to the Frank Gehry people

The earth is a great animal guilty of movement

You can speak to me through me--you can speak to me



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