Wednesday, October 19, 2022

Poem: "Ghost Tape Number 10"

If I ever mutter something magnificent

Something sarcastic and succinct enough to scar

and forever vanquish my vanity

It'll be born of mad mumblings in a bar

of precious snippets of a sinner’s sanity


It'll come far removed from fields in fall

Millions of miles removed from Mars

and the cliches in the comets and their tails

It'll come from something strange,

from lobotomy scars

and haunted county jails


It'll come, whatever beast it may be,

an omen of hell or heaven,

from Waco in '93

from Rwanda, from 9/11

It'll come, as all great things begin,

from something sick and rotten

Something I heard

on Ghost Tape Number 10

Something furious and forgotten


A faceless Jane Doe,

estimated height: five-feet-two,

discovered in summer '69

It'll come from Death Row

It'll come from Swine Flu


It'll come from me

but it won’t be mine.


from the book Balladmonger: More Bad Poems & Prose




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