the algebra of Need
I will pull off my beard
and
wear it as
a coat
I will spit teeth into
the night as I
remonstrate
all things
and
puke naked into
the breeze, into the mouth
of
the light mist.
I
will pick pins out
of my spine
and
feed them to
the
fish in the toilet.
I will skin
myself alive into the
sheets, drink
gasoline, start to gag
as I bauble my
words, paint them,
and
hand them out
the window.
all good things are
gone
in the wind, slobbering and
dumb in the pink
night,
strung up in the
breeze: be still, I will not
Allen Seward is a thirty-something poet-thing and mill worker. He resides in WV with his partner and three cats.