In the Pit of My Gut


Poetry Reading before Hated Uncles show. Gown’n’Gavel July, 1998

Acceptance - Poetry Motel 1988

“That bastard’s really fucked up.”

crawling through space
waiting for God to appear
I spit and light a smoke,
inhaling the poisonous fumes
I impatiently shake my foot
and hear far-off voices.

“Do you think he’s dead?”
“he’s been dead for a long time sweetie.”

I swim against the currents
of unforeseen rage,
I stagger against electric
fences and begin the charge,
faces weave in and out of focus
with their hideous mouths
always open yawningly.

“He drinks like a fucking fish.”
“Should we call the doctor?”

I wait for the doctor to appear
and mend this broken heart,
no no no no, it’s all wrong,
there has to be something more,
something eternal and real,
wisdom enclosing our souls
with eternal peace and bliss.

“I think I saw him move.”
“No. I accidentally kicked him.”

The attack has begun
I can feel them kicking me viciously,
the bastards will never win,
who do they think they are?
I seek greater things,
they can’t comprehend
what it is I desire, and need.

“Check his pulse.”
“How do you do that?”

I am surrounded by incompetence,
the simple becomes profound
and the profound tedious,
I can feel the earth
shaking and quaking
in the pit of my gut:
with one gasping breath
I am empty and free.

“That’s disgusting.”
“Somebody get a cloth.”

Published in Poetry Motel – Duluth, MN – 1988


Correspondence


Notes

  • This was published in a magazine called “Poetry Motel” (based out of Minnesota, MN) around 1989.
  • Well…looking at the correspondence after 30 years, it appears that the poem was accepted, got lost and never published. I believe they were deported from Quebec (where I originally submitted the poem) and wound up in Duluth, MN.

Written: mid-1980’s


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