Monday, September 20, 2010


We have done little
to deserve this beauty.
We found it like drunks
who stumbled
upon their bed
and foul-smelling.

There is the silky stalk
of the cat,
or how the grass sways
in the reggae wind.
There is the trumpet blast
of the elephant's nose,
or the thick bark
around an aged tree.

We will all
go away soon.
And will take nothing
and leave nothing--
maybe a little plastic;
our only reason
for being here.
That would be

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2010

Sunday, September 5, 2010


The gods
have been very good
to me; they've given
me what I've craved
knowing how bottomless
my hunger is,
in limited
doses: words, music,
dope, booze and women and
don't forget
misery--the sublimity
of an often time cruel,
and all too human world.
Had they been
less kind
I would never had known
the difference,
and neither
would you.

Norman Savage,
Greenwich Village, 2010

Saturday, September 4, 2010


a great lover
and matador;
I fucked Liz Taylor
and Sophia Loren
on successive evenings
while Bardot patiently waited
her turn;
they could not fuck me
out, and the could not fuck me
up; I was beyond women
and money; I was a shade short
of immortal,
but was fast
closing in
on that.
I gave the ears
of bulls
to the ladies
that Ernie was with and
while on safari
with Papa
ate the lions
we shot
for dinner
and saved
the female pythons
for desert
I shot pool
with Minnesota
in Minnesota
and hustled his balls
while he was trying
to hustle mine.
I was heavyweight champ
when fifteen rounds
meant something.
I made flowers grow
and Bluebirds sing.
I sat on my ass
for as long as I wanted
and worked
only as distraction.
I did everything better
than the best,
even lying,
having to remember
a lifetime
of days before.

You can believe this,
or not.
But I,
like most dreamers,
know the dream
well. And, like all things,
than you.

Norman Savage,
Greenwich Village, 2010