The Last Night of the Earth Poems

I knew that I was dying.

something in me said, go ahead, die, sleep, become as

them, accept.

then something else in me said, no, save the tiniest

bit.

it needn’t be much, just a spark.

a spark can set a whole forest on

fire.

just a spark.

save it.

I think I did.

I’m glad I did.

what a lucky god damned

thing.

my wrists are rivers my fingers are words

if I had a book or a drink then I didn’t think too much of
other things—fools create their own
paradise.

driving your machine with

more grace and care

I’m putting Celine in

cleanup,

he’s inconsistent but when

he’s good there’s no

better

but you know, my former

life as a bibliophile, it

possibly kept me from

murdering somebody,

myself

included

it allowed me to endure

some women

that most men would never

be able to live

with

YOU GOD DAMNED WHORE,

WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT

ANYTHING?

SITTING THERE ON YOUR

DEAD ASS AND

SUCKING AT THE VINO!”

books.

I had 3 or 4 of them in

bed with me (what a

man!) and then I would

sleep

Mozart was only good

when I was feeling

good and I seldom

felt that

way