Poetry

Jill Freedman

By

Rob Plath

forever un-bandaged

my heart is in worse shape

than van gogh’s

fucking ear

a large zigzagged

scab across

what little now

remains

barbed poetry

one night i was drunk & ate pumpkin seeds

i had that ferocious wine hunger

i didn’t shell them

in fact, i hardly chewed them

my fingers were coordinating enough to

just move from bag to mouth

the next day i suffered though

first came the shells like tiny thorns

passing through the asshole

a wincing barbed wire shit

then the paper with streaks of shit & blood

that’s a fucking metaphor for poetry

if there ever was one

devouring the world in big gulps

without preparing it first

without safely stripping it to the soft seed

then letting the barbs rip through you

squeezing out blood & shit on the page

Rob Plath

Rob Plath is a 46-yea-old poet from New York. He has over a dozen books out. He is most known for his collection A BELLYFUL OF ANARCHY (epic rites press). He lives alone with his cat and stays out of trouble. See more of his work at www.robplath.com