Year 2: Day 96 – Typewriter

Great poetry

The 365 Poetry Project: Year 3

I’d like to carry a typewriter,
one that folds up in a suitcase
with a handle,
and sit smoking on a train
breathing inspiration through the windows,
puffing genius madly.

I’d like to work in a laundromat by day
and pocket extra quarters
for bottles of brandy
sucked back in moldy apartments
where my habit has its play.

I’d like to be firmly trodden down,
to have something to rail against,
to pray that the click and the clack of my fury
would be the sound of justice
in a deaf world’s ears.

I’d like to be alone when I die.
I’d like them to print that in the papers.
I’d like all the women who’ve tried to love me
to come forward to tell how much pain I was in,
like a blind man who hasn’t got time to be healed
who ironically sees so much.

I’d like to…

View original post 22 more words

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s