WE USE WHAT WE GOT (every little bitty thing) THAT GOD GAVE US

like guns
& pocket mirrors;
like a hairy fist,
or a fast thumb;
like tits
on a '55 Cadillac's bumper
put in a push-up bra,
or a chiseled jaw
bracing a British accent;
we use our parent's wealth,
or food stamped passivity.
We use our reputation,
the written word,
stuttering,
or long legs leading to mysterious fortunes.
We play humor, twist pathos, dance with angels
or devils or landlords or tax collectors--
all that dross,
--secrets & solitudes
and the desperation
of others;
vanity/poverty
& holidays of blue suicides,
big dicks & tight cunts
snapping shut or dribbling
out the clock;
sophisticated offhandedness,
construction sweat,
a beaten fighter's courage,
a hooker's scars,
a priest's purity--
what we got,
is what we use.
I do it.
You do it.
We all do it
in the service
of love,
like the worm,
like the snake,
like the slug.
Everywhere.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

SUNDAY SNAKES

from Saturday's bowels,
like it's supposed to flush
six days of shit away
with one of rest
& respite.

What crap!

Please,
lemme sleep,
a little
longer.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

JIMI HENDRIX'S HANDS

came to me
in a dream
last night.
They were
long & black
and feathery.
They played
with the grace
of eels
fingering
my strings;
my dreams
moaned
like Bessie Smith.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015