We need a Celine/Miller/Kerouac/Bukowski/type for this time and place. I've chosen myself for the job. What did the man say? No guts no glory? So writing poems from the gut will do. And my star is rising...

Saturday, February 12, 2005

night

an extra refridgerator
w/beer and water
an extra key
w/a neon key chain
some apples
some chocolate chips
all amunition against
a cold cold night
talk radio
popcorn
laughter
and
blankets

posted by Brian at 6:09 PM

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