"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Today it snowed on my newly minted    red hair

and the dampness produced  a map   on my       right cheek

A  smudgey red  boot  has appeared


But   will it provide the kick  I need   to leave

draughty tea shops & oh so beautiful arthouses?

And write hungry poems from behind grimy windows


Now I ask you:  Is all of this renunciation really necessary?


For on this cold Spring day  in a too pink lipstick

I have run out of things to say    So for those of you

who would have me write  the next  Shades Of  Grey


Go write your own softporn   you forlorn bastards    make hay   make hay!



..All your writing about pain and suffering  is bullshit..




Early Spring  2013   Songanddancegirl    Bukowski   &    Kerouac’s Rimbaud    1960

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