what matters most


Somewhere between
Blaze and the Indian Cave
and Bukowski,

I discovered the undead.

The multitude of stumbling carcasses
that slowly overrun the world.
They move as a herd toward the nearest
warm-blooded creature with a brain.

– They like those, don’t they?

They stay in houses, alleys, shopping malls,
libraries, hospitals
and churches,

but not in caves.

Caves are for rustlers and Indian treasure.
Boys and their horses.
Adventure.

Zombies are obsessive.

They like brains.

They stagger and lurch as they walk.
Not like horses, that gait, gallop
and jump.

Fences and shit like that.
Horses wade through deep water
or jump hoops of fire

Zombies don’t like water or fire,
and can’t jump either;
Not up from the ground
or out of 8 story windows.

Well, maybe for brains they would.

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3 thoughts on “what matters most

  1. redmitten

    way cool. i love the connections drawn without the use of much connective tissue. and that opening is killer.

    sherry

    Reply
    1. John S Post author

      Thanks Sherry. You see the sparseness of the poem too. So glad that connection was made. Hope you are doing well! Thanks for visiting.

      John

      Reply
  2. Pingback: Poet in Mind: Charles Bukowski’s Birthday | Taps and Ratamacues

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