Monday, November 13, 2006

Two Poems


Sitting in Dempsey's Bar
New York City Irish pub
East Village
I'm honoring Dylan
the real one
great writer
poet-performer unparalleled
who died of drinking
four days and fifty-three years
Does time fly?
It zooms. . . .
100 miles an hour
rocks glass rolling across the bar
whiskey gone too fast
"Bartender, get me another!"


I had a dream of
beautiful women
many of them
at a prostitute druggie hotel
I once used to live in
"Treat them kindly!"
the madam barks.
"Treat them rough and we'll rough YOU up
Ten times over.
Be nice and they'll be nice."
Yes, they're nice
They're heaven
Women are heaven
Even the madam with the bulldog face
soft creature after all
A real softie; easy touch
Beneath the iron.


- Leopold said...

good ones.

Jimbo said...

The Anglo-Saxon systematically anyone who might have the misfortune of being infected with the soul of the poet and finding themselves within their territory or upon lands they are in the process of colonizing as these individuals might interfere with the peddling of the beigocrat Kultchural by product.