there is poetry in motion somewhere
handing out ice chips
at the gates of hell
in this house of venomous things
i saw a man beg another beat another man
how they hold their fisted hands is enchanting
i saw a woman wash her cunt in a puddle on Main another too old to share that in her prime she was a socialite
in this house of venomous things
my bones crawl at lightning speed
awareness escapes me
i saw this house of tissue thin illusion
bodies twisted intertwined into themselves
looking at eternal nothingness orange needles used to slam away the truth
in this house of venomous things
there is
i swear it
poesy in the taking of a shit in the alley
in jacking off on a bus bench
in setting one on fire because we’re too stoned to care
yes in this house of venomous things
the windows are wide open
to come and hear the silence shattered by insurmountable indifference
in the poems of our day
i know that i have seen poetry
in his suicidal rage kicking as his neck and soul snap
like any freeway flare to share a light
in this house of venomous things
born of the west to unite with the east
every prophet to her house of beautiful venomous things
words less spoken 