I've lived a life of madness and mayhem. I’ve had diabetes for 50 years and have been addicted to one substance of another for 45 of those years. It has been a beautifully joyful and painful schizophrenic ride: drugs, booze, women, music, writing, and learning with each new success or defeat. This blog tries to come to grips with all of life's fractures and contains everything--even you.
Friday, March 27, 2015
FORENSIC ANTHROPOLGY
Found
under reams
& scraps
of paper
curling
at the edges,
yellowed,
and torn
haphazardly
and done over
centuries
from something
larger, perhaps
monstrous.
With much pain
I pieced it
together:
a poem:
WHA
T
Y
OU
D
O
to me
is some
thing
I can't
ex
plain--
so I
won't .
I only
know
how
my body
sings
&
how eac h
note settles
in tge
flesh.
You've gotten away with crimes of the heart.
You've taken my love without telling me
how.
Not bad,
I said,
to myself; almost
human.
Maybe
I could trace it
back
to a time
before
cruelty.
I will
put it
up
and study it
under
the light.
Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015
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