TO MAURITIUS...WITH LOVE

The blues
will tell
you...rock
'n roll
rockers
& punks
& hip
hop
artists,
the mad
painters
and soon
to be mad
civilians;
they will
shout,
scream
stomp
& stroll
down the
avenues
of the
dead;
Madagascar
will moan
& Arkansas
will sway
to the harps wind;
glass will hide
underneath a dream
of white while horses
run away
over the hills;
a deep bone ache
abides like a good
slide guitar
in a whiskey walk...
There is no better love
than the one that's
lost and
you can appear
like magic;
I've made it easy
for you:
I'm listed.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

SOMEBODY FROM MAURITIUS

rang my bell
in the middle of the night
a hundred & twenty-one times,
but I was sleeping--
didn't hear a fucking thing
'til this morning,
when I saw someone
went fucking crazy
on my poetry blog.
I didn't know
where Mauritius is
until I Googled it:
Africa, fucking Africa,
very beautiful.
Who is it?
Male or female?
Female, I hope.
So much interest
should not go
unrewarded...
& had to stop
myself: Savage,
I said, take it
easy; you're a good writer,
but a fucking dreadful human.
It was then
I picked-up
this pen...
& there
you have it.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016