Issue |
 |
Nov |
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a poem by Mat Gould (1 of 2)
that low-down love of a raw deal
I wouldn't know about the Indian summer
I will go with this day
well enough
and
pleasant
even I can take solace
in
the sunflowers opening up
and
keep--
any hardship
the squealing brakes
and
the work-place trying to slip its
dry finger
up my ass
although
unwilling to get me off--
out of it
jes
by
reminding
myself
of
the older gentlemen I met
at
the pub
this weekend
eating peanuts
drinking pints
watching the train
slam through the emptiness
with
rampage and laughter
discussing literature
that
I will never go after
--I once read a chapter
and then went straight to the last page--
I later bought a copy
of
a book
that was titled in my namesake
and
is
matter-of-factly
about
the torment
the rage
and
all that
low-down love of a raw deal
as
we
face it
how we believe a warrior would
or
with
all the sweat
and
all the gnashing
of
this whole damn gang bang
I will go with this day
well enough
and
pleasant
even I can take solace
in
the sunflowers opening up
and
keep--
any hardship
the squealing brakes
and
the work-place trying to slip its
dry finger
up my ass
although
unwilling to get me off--
out of it
jes
by
reminding
myself
of
the older gentlemen I met
at
the pub
this weekend
eating peanuts
drinking pints
watching the train
slam through the emptiness
with
rampage and laughter
discussing literature
that
I will never go after
--I once read a chapter
and then went straight to the last page--
I later bought a copy
of
a book
that was titled in my namesake
and
is
matter-of-factly
about
the torment
the rage
and
all that
low-down love of a raw deal
as
we
face it
how we believe a warrior would
or
with
all the sweat
and
all the gnashing
of
this whole damn gang bang