Rick Naitoh Poems

When you’re smoking through tinfoil in the morning, it’s going to be a cold day.
When the dragon is in your eyes, and in your lungs, you just can’t let it go.
The needle and the rubber are just an instant number, but the rush is not enough.
Just like quicksand, you are sinking.
...

Know not I why I desire,
Angry eyes and angry lips.
Not red as rose petals in fire,
But redder are her fingertips.
...