Make it Blow Up
It’s something we can do now.
A loud sparrow at my feet
after seven years of poem.
My brother in the dementia
I might as well be. Can this
photographer make me look
as good as Metallica? On
the 38 bus? I pass on politics.
But I don’t mind starting again.
An attitude? I’m ashamed I
never did. Throw up. Throw
up your hands. Hand over fist
over toilet seat. Sleep while I
tell you this. This movie
dangles like a spider
in front of a black SUV.
