National Poetry Month 2021

to be eaten by a hog

inspired by Bukowski’s poem, “earthquake”.

the privileged record themselves 

tone deaf and gluttoned 

with a desire to be rattled

by fault line waltzes,

a pinch to the neck

babies take up mortgages and adults live on the streets

nothing is as green as the other guy’s T.V.

we build circuses inside tents to distract 

from the real catastrophes

imagine all the people 

bloodied at the knees,

a penance for ejaculatory decree

we owe it to ourselves to kill whatever haunts

whatever sets us free

what if the streets opened up

swallowing us up, 

all smiles, 

all glee

a simple gesture, 


an earthquake of 7.3

we drink where we once shit 

and call it counterfeit

a chaos leaves us brooding

until we are committed

to the slaughter of our hypocritical deceit

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