Friday, February 04, 2005


Writ big in lipstick letters,
Old school scrawl
On jaundiced skin.
Lifted from The Book of Lewd Enlightenment
(page 52), adjacent to: "Here I lie, broken-hearted...."

Adios, Kid Intricate.

I never thought the
Lemon flower was sweet, myself.
            —But that's me.

A cancerous attitude precludes tumors—
They're scared shit.
Clean bill of health and an enema gratis,
And all systems are go.

'You can love your life,"
The TV pleads, as hordes are cured:
Canes, walkers dispensed with
(They get a nice dollar on
Returned prosthetics).

And I run
Out of the room,
Laughing and crying.
Mostly laughing, though.

* * *

One of the two (count 'em) people who actually read this blog (other than myself) recently asked about the origins of the name "Kid Intricate." It comes from the above poem, which I wrote in the spring of 2002. Poet and editor Jonathan Penton was nice enough to publish it on his web site, Unlikely Stories. It and a few other poems of mine - as well as a truly ghetto picture of me - can be found here.


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