Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

I’m going to wear my hair down today
even if it is 82 degrees
At an angle in heaven my father
watches me smoke this blueberry joint
and these awful fucking cigarettes
and frowns
It’s true Every man fathers
monsters
and is perpetually blind to the ensuing grace

I’ll eat what I have left inside
I’ll walk away from it today like
coughing through a thick wind
shedding velvet lenses
emptied from ear to ear
So much depends on red control

and lotus prints of pure sweat

Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages.