A cigarette butt Thrown in an old can Half filled with ash, Forgetting lips. A thousand milky soldiers, Fresh and sweet And white like road kill Emptied into the belly Of a whore. –Connor Syrewicz
Category Archive: Poetry
Dec 01
What we need is less poetry
once upon a time well-paid office holders, omnipotent bankers, opulent financial elites and other criminal elements of the bourgeoisie feared the very soup they slurped from their glossy, porcelain bowls, inspecting each silver spoonful for whateverthefuck poison looks like once upon a time wall street bankers feared the horse-and-buggy parked in front of the building …
Dec 01
This Rude Fun
Saturday Night is a myth, in the bad, not-true way. But I persist. The night promises something beyond a fuck and a drunken chuckle, but those are what I go looking for. Tonight’s bartendrix pours to pay the bills of the convent to which she aspires. She looks like her ancestors from a nation of …
Dec 01
A Real Bar
Better a real bar than a fake heaven. It makes tomorrow and yesterday into old stories that don’t need re-telling. The chopped lemons, the ones right there, mean more to me than all the dead guys I never heard about. And I don’t care if they really did build this very world— from the pile …
Dec 01
The Opposite of Release
To stop pretending is a long process I blow my strength on religion, alcohol, sex— every institution that both promises and prevents release The drinks mortgage the pain I know I’m due One stool over, the King of the World spends all that’s his to find the last honest man just to shake his bony …
Dec 01
January 2: For Yuan Hongqi
That was the day when my father died Before finishing the longevity noodles Mom’s trying to feed him below our feet On the other face of the planet, where He had persisted long enough to allow Us to celebrate another new year’s day In Jingzhou as well as in Vancouver When my brother’s only son …
Dec 01
Pea-Souper Outside 30 E Congress
Ripper night so foggy streetlights seem to bubble like lava lamps. Dolly, in the designated smoking space, says solemnly, “Someone is going to be murdered,” then pulls a long drag on her super skinny fag. I silently say, “Thank god I’m not a whore anymore.” –Joe Eldridge
Dec 01
A Morbid Fascination
she told me she had dreams and grand schemes of successfully murdering her baby sister one day. this lanky young girl with gaudy motifs on her shirts her chest still flat and face too flushed from pre-adolescence. this lanky girl no heavier than my little finger telling me repeatedly over and over again how she …
Dec 01
Spiked
i know there’s something in that drink you just handed me but as i am wont to wantonness and prone to sudden spells of suddenly lubricating my cheap underwear lined with lace i will gladly drink up and let you do whatever you deem fit there’s a whip in the boot cuffs under my pillow …
Dec 01
Roundabouts
He drives too Fast To Impress his friends All dead tonight. She fucks whom she may Loving the attention Until she gets rot box. He loves the fast lifestyle Rip snorts it up. Until he drops cold at 37. He goes to the Mines The Money is too good Now gone to his widow. She …