After a Night at the Comedy Club

I agree with Lorca, two has never been a number
But merely anguish and sorrow

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Let the mathematicians eat in darkened rooms
Weeping into their soup

Yes I think that’s right

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If I go on in this way I’ll birth a goddess from my forehead
And she’ll be a real bitch

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I agree also with Lorca that the dead spend their time
Gobbling up their own hands

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Yes that was me—picking mushrooms
Singing songs by Blake

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“How lucky Kabir is, that surrounded by all this joy
he sings inside his own little boat.”

Excerpt From
Kabir
Robert Bly

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I like my mistakes more than my triumphs
They’re loyal

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Right down to DNA
Ice is my country

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I love it when Lorca says
This is not death, it is a fruit stand

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto