Blood's HeartHope

Art by Norman E. Masters

hunger is also a teacher

i'm awake   where am i

there's the impression of my body

on the bed   but i'm not there

didn't i come home last night

still wet under the arms

my  shirt  comes  floating

off the hanger   out of the closet

searching  the  air  for  my  arms

coughing with bad breath   my shoes

walk out by themselves

into the dawn   into the street

turning the corner   down by the alley

   where   did   i   go

teeth   i  need  teeth

to get specks of food between

fingers   to hold a splinter of wood

to   scratch   the   specks   out

a stomach   a rib cage

to get tight and stiff

like strings   on a broken guitar

playing songs noone remembers

                                           NO  ONE  ANYMORE

i had something to do today

but   you   wouldn't

(my ass is smooth   as a toilet seat

there's gravel   at the bottom

of my balls   makes me grouchy as hell)

what i wouldn't do   for 5 bucks

a newspaper   it is necessary

to purchase   a newspaper

there is an entire   universe

of  discourse   in section  D


                                            if i had
i have the right   to work
                                             a knife --
i  must  work   i  cannot

find   work
                                              i could cut

                                              a job and
i'm a ghost   who lives
                                                       it could
in  a  room  with  no  walls
and my doorway  leads to the street
                                                a map in
and that street  leads to bitterness
                                                 a gas station

                                                        looks  like
but at least   it leads
                                                             some  arteries
out of the room   where my skeleton
                                               in   someone's
hangs dangling   on a coatrack
choking up slogans   spitting up jokes
                                                          split   open--
puking   nickles   and   dimes

away   from   the   mattress

the   orgasms   dead   on   arrival

sometimes  i  pitch  pennies  with  my death

and  sometimes  we dance together

like a couple of faggots  and sometimes

we  go  down  on  each  other

an  other  times   still  others

                                            WHAT  I  WOULDN'T  DO   FOR 5  BUCKS

  i  have  a  right   to my share                 RIGHT   NOW

of  the  earth   to  the  air that

is   breathed  i   cannot


i  had  something  to  say

but  i  can't   i  was  searching  for  my teeth

What  Is  It   What Do  You  Have  To  Say


it's   a dead man's


sewed  to your

balls   it's 25


in  a  row

strung  together

then  braided

like  a  rope

it's  tuesdays  wednesdays

and  thursdays

pushing you out of their ass

like  a  piece  of  shit

it is this thing   it is hunger

john mach
May 84' -- April 85'

[To Cosmic Wind Main Page] LightShimmer in the BlueHeart, art by Norman E. Masters