Charles Malcolm Poems

The radiators were hissing,
and the fresh tallboy
felt like throbbing frostbite in my hand
as I broke down
...

Why read mysteries.
Women have spines too.
Lengthy forewords.
Brief,
...

A Native American stumblebum told me a dirty
joke in the bus tunnel.
I laughed even though I knew the punchline.
'Beef stroganoff.'
...

I take taxicabs
further north than I usually go
alone
...

Every gal
gets a poem.

I like some
...

I am fine
with this blood
but will not tuck fading photographs
of my aging face
...

It's just right.

That my lovers hate me.
Avocados on sale.
...

You're bad wallpaper.

Something to stare at
with four eyes
...

I'm ready
now
to leave off the heat
close the bedroom door
...

Bummed or borrowed
or sometimes bought
but always used
and flicked
...