His Poem Poem by RIC BASTASA

i read his poem today,
a disciple of
I don't really know
he will not tell
but this i can say,
i follow every thought
every metaphor
and it is like i am being
pushed
to the labyrinth of the
large and small
intestines of a
chicken,
i know how is it
to be a gizzard,
i survive all these
blind curves
until i bump upon
a closed door
like an opening at the
end of the tunnel,
there is still no light
only lots of
shit.

One thing,
last word, i like the
ride of the
roller coaster
which brings me
back to my
heyday
my youth
which i may say
is paramount to his

nauseous, really.