USE WHAT YOU GOT; USE EVERY ITTY-BITTY THING GOD GAVE YOU OR THE DEVIL SOLD YOU; USE YOURSELF UP

1.

Use it like a gun
or a pocket mirror;
use it like a hairy fist,
or a set of fast thumbs.
Use it
as if your mother is hiding
inside you,
clocking your action,
judging, finger pointing,
wagging her stupid floppy tongue
cursing your infidelity.
Your memories
are simply oiled up
& begging to be caught.
Catch them.
Let the wind
drive them into your bones.
And let your bones rattle
and scatter in God's celestial crap-game.

2.

Make love to your disease--
if you're lucky enough to have one;
it pleases the gods
who thought it wise
to grant you a gift.
Embrace
its confines,
lick the edges
where, as all fugitive lovers know,
lies the sweetness of evanesence.
Your disease
will make you a better liar,
a better fabulist,
a better spinner of tales;
in short, a better artist.

3.

Winter has leaned early
into your crib
and froze your sap.

4.

I am
an old bull elephant
in must...

5.

Since I was a young boy
the fears have come
with regularity; I hold
an empty can of Coke
in one hand
& a Lucky in the other.
Neurosis drips
over the side of the bed
& pools in the can
with the ashes.
They are all useless
except as instruments
like music.
I have sung
the sad meat of my bones
and now gnaw the gristle.

I'll take some hot sauce with that...
make it to go.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2019

MOVE OVER MOM...MORE THAN A SOMEWHAT RANCID PLEA

some other women
want to fuck me
and you guard the gates
like you own me.

Don't be selfish,
let them
get under the covers
too. Big bed,
plenty of space
in my head
& yours.

You've had me
so long
& I've grown so old
there's not much danger
in you not going
into the dirt with me.

And they're so young
& so beautiful
& so foolish
& forgetfull
& eager
to please.
Yes, smaller breasts,
yes, gentile minds,
yes, making statements
with their pussies;
yes, from Senagal,
from the lower east side,
Jamaica, Princeton, jail,
but they know
my heart
& where it runs
along a long line
of blues singes.

I've sponged up
your neurosis
like it was milk.
Your shelf life
seems to be past.
So before
you curdle
and my belly bloats,
ease up,
& let up,
& please
move the hell over--
I've got someone
coming over.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018