Litkicks Message Board Archive

the sun is empty

Posted to Action Poetry




my feet are on fire
i picked rose petals
out of my ears
and threw them at the brothel
i walk past the neon sign
blinking "chop suey"
the stoplights waltz about
with a mess of hotels
and the sidewalk slips
my trip and i spill
hallucinations all over
the nameless road
empty sun moon loon
there's no rest for the wicked
when he has to pick
tics out of his hair
and paste them on looseleaf
to write this poem