ON MY BIRTHDAY; THIS YEAR

"Survival is triumph enough."
Harry Crews

Whew!
I don't remember
how I got here!
so fast!
with fiction
behind me
I speed
toward the slowest
of conditions.

I'm the only one
that holds the pen.
so much power!, that
on Jane Street I ripped-up a dream
and neatly disposed it
in a trash can where it still
lies, smeared
yet legible.
it surprises even me
this want
for a strange warm pool
where water has the consistency
of evaporation.

in this myarid of highways
there is really only one
that gets traveled
and so many rules
are translated into one--
survival,
for as long as necessary
or possible.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1971

FORTY-DEUCE

Striptease night,
laughing
at the days blatency,
curls
inside dampness
as cosmetic whores
frown
upsidedown
in neon
madness.

Norman Savage
New York City, 1973

POEM

sizzling sun
fever at noon
as the outlaw rides
into the spoon.

his escape spilled
from the spiders lips
and he, only able to kiss
the ghost of a spirit, choose
to be, Hamlet,
once again.

Norman Savage
New York City, 1973

COSTS

This book
of empty white pages
cost me
two bucks and change
to purchase new,
and also cost me
X number of days
to fill up.
It will cost you
about the same,
minus the X,
of course.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1971

POEM

Ah, go on,
fuck yer brains out;
you been layin
in that position
too long anyway.
nauseating commercials
on the radio sayin
how glorious to be in love--
are they kiddin?
at the end
ya love yerself,
maybe,
if yer
lucky.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1971

EXTENSION

you'd be amazed
how fucked-up
things can get:
like finding
a dead
love.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1970

ANYWHERE

I want to be
somewhere
where I'm not,
and not know
I'm somewhere
when I get there.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1971

SOME WOMEN

Watch out
for the woman
who says
she never lies
to men
about love
which makes it
all the more amazing
and impossible
to comprehend
that she's alone
and constantly
being lied to---
something's
up.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 1978

1 PM--4:30 PM

the movement
of the Italian telephone company
moves
as fast as shit
through a flypapered tube.

Norman Savage
LaSpezia, Italy 1970

SHUTTER

I go,
like a mad photographer
with my pen
& little blank book
trying to put
a seed
into a flowerpot;
but a buttonhole
is not desired,
and the coat
seldom worn.

Norman Savage
Sitges, Spain, 1970

ROLES

pretentious motherfucker
writing in front of people
trying to make real
something, anything
assertive;
being a poet,
or cocksucker,
is really
no big thing
unless
the poet is good,
or the cock alive.

Norman Savage
Madrid, Spain 1970

FEAR

forget the night
it is too dark
to go into

Norman Savage
Paris, 1970

GET AWAY POEM

Letsgetthefuckouttahere.

Norman Savage
Paris, 1970