cimen altinda gecen 225 gunden son
kanini emip bitireli epey oldu, ar
bu isler boyle mi oluyor?
bu odada hala ask saatlerinin golg
birakip gittiginde asagi yukari he

he sat naked and drunk in a room o
night, running the blade of the kn
under his fingernails, smiling, th
of all the letters he had received
telling him that

I awaken about noon and go out to
in my old torn bathrobe.
I’m hung over
hair down in my eyes
barefoot

I see old people on pensions in th
supermarkets and they are thin and
proud and they are dying
they are starving on their feet an
nothing. long ago, among other lie

when I look back now
at the abuse I took from
her
I feel shame that I was so
innocent,

225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?

self-congratulatory nonsense as th
famous gather to applaud their see
greatness
you
wonder where

I took my girlfriend
to your last poetry reading,
she said “yes”,
“yes?” I asked.
"she`s young and pretty",

I sit here on the 2nd floor
hunched over in yellow
pajamas
still pretending to be
a writer.

I read last Saturday in the
redwoods outside of Santa Cruz
and I was about 3/4's finished
when I heard a long high scream
and a quite attractive