Poetry of Issue #7        Page 58

Saved by Debauchery

Tonight is a night for drinking,
not for thinking the tired screes of capitalism.
It is a time for the liver to deal with eternity
and recognize that living is a dual meaning and
what lives is dependent on the poison of life,
and that time is poison when a woman waits
and is growing anxious in the maelstrom,
and all your words and academic thoughts
are but metal placed against the flesh.

Perhaps you’d like to nibble this bit here
inside the upper thigh, or higher, here.
Tonight the arch stretches above us, and
belittles the grinding mediocracy of thought.
The muscles of academia and sainthood spasm.

  Jared Smith