You Want Poetry?

I wrote this drunk. Don’t blame me.

You want poetry?
Fine words making fine art
A message more eloquent than
The body feels, for
To be human is to be clumsy is
To fall flat
You want poetry?
Staccato words rat-tat-tatting you
An image
A feeling
A reality, but
There ain’t no solace in art from the heart, baby, and I tell you
I’m a messy man
Loose with my feelings
Open with my words
Honey, I’m an art dealer, and my best selling commodity is
You want poetry?
You want hurt
You want love
You want desperation because *you* are
Desperate for something
Grabbing for something
Ambitious and
These are good things but remember
Art is delicate
You want poetry?
Art, and the heart, are fluid
They are searching and angry and honest
They are bald and bare and true
Poetry isn’t roses and platitudes so much as
Viscera and attitude
You want poetry?
Baby, live and feel that pain a while
It’s the xylophone of your ribcage
The drumline at the back of your skull
Poetry is seeing that one lover driving away for the last time
The butterfly drifting across the sunset
The last two drops from the whiskey bottle
If you want poetry
You want life
That’s a bag of valentines and
Nails to step on
It’s that feeling in your gut halfway between horror and a climax
On the wildest ride at the amusement park
Good luck