ZOMBIES ALL

For George Romero

It was 1968 and
I was early in my junky run:
I'd just fallen in love
and had gotten married,
honeymooning with myself
at The Waverly theater
watching Night Of the Living Dead
at the midnight show.
I wasn't really "watching"
as much as I was nodding,
my upper body bent over
like a question mark
searching
for an easy transition
between here
and there.
I had yet to digest
pleasures
& make sense of "love"
& "food," & "need,"
& "desire." "Escape"
had me
in her talons.

Before I knew it
I had killed
another night.
I went back
to Coney Island
& stopped at Nathan's
for a frank.
I thought I'd cheated
death and felt proud
that I'd found
the place that fitted
almost like a cunt
without the dialogue.

The dead have grown
and are insatiable.
There is never enough
pleasure to go around.
Pass the salt.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

THE ECLIPSE FLIM-FLAM

You wanna see
real darkness?
Look
into the mouths
of others.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

ETHNIC ALZHEIMER'S

You forget everything--


except grudges.


Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

A MODEST SOLUTION

Have Ivanka
suck some street dick
& let Tiffany take notes.
Move Eric
& Donny, Jr
into an SRO
& give em 16 bucks
a month in Food Stamps;
force Barron
to choose
another name--
these are easy to do.
What's a little harder,
but promises to be
more interesting,
is moving all "the swells"
on Park, Lex, & 5th Avenues
to Pig Hollow Mississippi,
Crapalachia, the inbred mountains
of Kentucky while shuffling
some pig slop Alabama/Arkansas/Georgia north,
into the main line of Boston,
Philly, Riverdale, Scarsdale,
overturn Montana into Louisiana,
spill the bucket of blood that's Texas
into Maine's aortic valve...
you know, Mongrelize! Blood
doesn't turn up its nose;
let there by blood jets of poetry.
Shake it up baby,
twist&shout Isley Brothers style.

Can this American flag bullshit.
Give it a rest. Stop talking.
It's bad, it's stale, we've seen
this movie. Sleep with a new mate.
Smell a new smell. Taste something
that awakens your tongue.
For god's sake:
Make It New.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

SOMEWHERE TODAY

a little boy will be running
from a death grip
of a father's hands
and a little girl
from his cock.
Somewhere today
that little boy
will begin to marry
his mother
over and over again
and that little girl
will bend
to the black heel
of a German boot.
Our task,
& our terror,
is to unravel
the dream.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

I'VE ORDERED A WOMAN

from Amazon:
used,
dog-eared,
creased,
& underlined.
But you know men:
they make a million mistakes
when it comes to reading
women; they treat
the important trivial
& mistake madness
for difficulties.
I'll read it
myself
and let you know.
Meanwhile,
I choose regular shipping;
I want to have
& want her to have
the juice
of expectation.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

DON'T FUCK WITH ME

Today I read
that they now
can edit/fix/fuck with
whatever is diseased
by altering some genes
in the womb.

Don't.

The world
would die
if this poem
was stillborn.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017