Issue
#3

May
2009 

a poem by Paul Hellweg

Fuck the Machine

I start each morning
the day ahead unknown
maybe life
maybe death,
so to tip the balance
in my favor
I go through a pot of coffee
and dozens of poems,
limiting myself to writers
who were filled with life:
Rimbaud
Villon
and yes, him too--
Bukowski.
I need their help
to summon the courage
to turn on my computer,
read my e-mail
and see what plot
the petty souls
and martinets of the world
have hatched
today
to stifle creativity
and
beauty.

© Paul Hellweg

 printer-friendly