Tuesday, August 7, 2018

IT'S DAYS LIKE THIS


when I'm feeling most fine,
when my body hums
with glucose regularity,
obeying the speed limits
of 80-120 defying its dead
insulin producing organ,
when words dance
like a mad Nureyev
in my brain,
when a woman
is preparing me dinner
while I get my heart
up to speed,
when tragedies zip by
without stopping...
that I most want a cigarette,
a shot of dope,
a whorey woman
with a sick grandmother,
when I want some madness
to descend
on top of my head
crashing like the cymbals
on Elvin Jone's drums;
I want something,
anything,
to show me
who the hell
I am.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018

Saturday, August 4, 2018

INTIMACIES


I'm sick,
I said.
My girlfriend
lying next to me
said nothing.
I tried again:
Goddamn, I'm fucking sick,
I said louder.
What else is new?
she replied,
you're always sick
about something.
Two black flies,
mad with summer heat
were either fighting
or fucking
on the screen
beside the bed;
the heat circulated
by their wings
& a cheap fan.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018

Friday, August 3, 2018

ALL TOO HUMAN


My ass is parked
outside Rusk,
on a bench,
cane in hand,
waiting
to begin
rehab. You see
my heart
is broken
from self-love
& other
obsessions.
But I've not given up
& so believe
I can regain
my abilities
(& desireabilty)
to hurt myself
(& others) again
one day
soon.

We're born
into this:
Addiction, Anorexia, Bulimia, Cancer,
Diddling, Drunkeness, Frigidity, and all
the other A B C's of youth, childhood rearing
and wonderment.
But this
is what awaits:
age & sickness
of indeterminate stays.

And so I watch
as life
in all its
fragility
march past
into the mouth
of medicine.
And I wonder:
do fleas
ever lose
their hardon
or Queen bees come down
with vaginal prolapse?
Are ants beset
by Alzheimers
or roadrunners arythmias?
Do lions go deaf
from roaring
or elephants
break hips from falls?
Do swans seek facelifts?

Past our prime
we all cling to failure
while little children
the world over
never notice the fissures
in the frozen lakes
and lace up their skates
anticipating an afternoon
of fun & fancy.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018