Posts Tagged ‘Larry Bierman’

Futile Lord

 

We had so few words,

but what could be said?

 

Margin to margin we stood

in lines, hands wanting.

 

Rain wet hair we walked

shaggy dogs in a city night.

 

Save yourself, you said,

I am already lost beyond…

 

Could neon puddle the

street like foreign letters?

 

Read my footseps, my

spiraling fingerprints.

 

I bought a blank book,

a bottle of amber wine.

 

Look, the pages sting

with stain and old tears.

 

After the last sun, what

else could go wrong?

 

I want you heart and soul.

You give an empty body,

The relief at your grave.

 

 

Write On

After the last open mic
a young woman asked me
“Why do you still do it?”

It’s because
in my head
I’m not dead–
that being said:

When you get old
your skin dries out,
especially in this
Oklahoma climate.

I’ve tried lotions,
salves, balms,
ointments, unguents,
compounds, creams,
sprays, mists,
baths, soaks
and powder.

The best thing
I’ve found
to lubricate
this old flesh
is sex,
sex
with a
twenty-
something.

Young ones ooze
grease like nachos.
They sweat sheets
as they clutch
climax.
My preference is for
anyone who smells
sweet and musky-
not too pungent,

anyone who likes
being licked with
lime and kissed
with Dubonnet.
Why do I write?

Poetry is my only
come on.
Cum.