BEATNIK: A Poetry Collection

blood o'christ

wine is good,

but stern.

it can turn me on

but shut me out.

make itself sweet,

then be bitter by touch.

wine is swell,

but still.

it can call my tongue,

then dull my buds.

make me feel warm,

but leave my mind cold.

wine is fine,

but just a glass.

past this, I

feel it work,

and all those

poets who it made cry.

one mug in and

I'm ready to spill,

a slave to its

blooming power.