Sunday, April 22, 2012

30 Days of The 5-2 Blog Tour: Noble Masochists



"If I had any real balls, I'd be a poet."
- Daniel Woodrell

That line has become my mantra.

Every day when I sit down to write, it's the first thing that pops in my head. Because the act of writing, creating a story, novel, screenplay, whatever, it takes balls. .But being a poet ... well, you know going in that you're creating art for art's sake, and you have to admit, there's something noble about that.

Noble and maybe just a tad bit masochistic?

Anyway, for my  5-2 Blog post, I figured I'd get my narcissism and masochism on, and post a new poem.

Hope you like it.


How I Know She Loves Me


She squeezes my hand,
and palms me the twenty.

It's grimy, slick with sweat
and age.

She moves to kiss me,
but I avoid her lips,

And guide her to my rough cheek
because of the cold sore.

My beard causes it to seep,
she flinches as she pulls away.

I tell her I'll be right back,
we both know that's a lie.

I head out just as she leads
the old perv into the ladies

Room.

2 comments:

  1. cold sore poetry.

    thanks for that poem and also for the intro - such a strong quote, buddy.

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  2. Yes, it takes balls. Bravo for writing something that actually makes sense. The problem I have with most modern poetry is the overly abstract nature of it, often so abstract that only the writer can understand and appreciate it. Go onto any major literary magazine's website and you'll find award-winning poems about chipmunks with wedding rings around their necks in a cemetery. I'm not even making that one up. That was published by The Paris Review.

    Keep up the good work, Keith.

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