Two by A.J. Kaufmann

Handshake

live again...
cut out all indecent past lines
word forms
made into flesh
cut out all infected flesh
bleed all the black
blood
throw out the lungs
& the liver
retrace the unfortunate quotes
rewrite the very first scene
move back
to the soulless scenery
of birth
deleteall incongruous
hurt
conspire w/ the bright ghosts
of dawn
retire into the
dream night

live again...
in the wilderness' memory only
as one of the lucky
bastards
one of the fortunate
changelings

continue to grow
drop lines
make money
spend it on kasbah blue harlots
buy'em scarves & boots
dress'em for the proper
occasion
they pour so much sugar
into your eyes
that the salt in the stomach
don't hurt
anymore
& your heartache
becomes a spider

live again...
decide yourself & be again
whole

whole in the moments
when eyes meet

whole in the fragments
of a handshake

#

A Bunch of Floating Anarchists

the Molotov brigade
has entered
my apartment
treshold burners
immobile
sleepless kids of inertia
sordid units
of black
restlessly packed
together
comin' to see their
favorite
writer

tried to perforate my couch
slay my cat
cram my trumpet
w/ shit
& feed the birdy
some acetone
write some
bright slogans
all across my bathroom
wall
shout their poems
out of my windows
piss on the streets
from balcony high
throw buckets of rotten food
at passing policemen
sniff some glue
& fuck my newest
best
friend

vomit balloons
explore
the twilight:
magic pills start workin'

our boys sure need some sleep:
been up for 72 hours
smashing system
controls
burnin' some old buddhist
writings

how can I convince them
that the system
sleeps only in their heads
while they're wide awake
on meth
hallucinating
self-induced
paranoias
coming to visit
their favorite
writer

so tired of these
so-called
visits...