Posted in Paul Vincent Andrews on March 29, 2012| 1 Comment »
By Paul Vincent Andrews
your dreams become a porn movie
deranged thoughts worse than Satan’s
gyn center, the Doc himself asks you
“staying above water in this”
“had to buy a snorkel”
you’re back in the brown, red, and pink
strange pimply flesh, and the razor burn
God’s sounds the alarm
you luck into Terry Callier
“I’ve seen a sparrow get high”
“and waste his time in the sky”
perhaps today’s the day
Posted in Paul Vincent Andrews on August 18, 2010| 6 Comments »
By Paul Vincent Andrews
my tie and I
do not dance
through desktop
days, and managerial
afternoons
we do not skip to
lunch, he lies limp
at a quarter to eight (pm)
an unused lighting
rod made of Chinese
silk, with Monet
imprint and hope
and hell waiting
for final stand
the cleaners
its untied state
a Grecian relief
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