H
e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s
b e r g
N
a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i
v e s E d i t i o n
JAMES RUGGIA
the same moments keep finding
and then abandoning the same
tormented old bastards
hunched
over newspapers in cafes.
The stories just confirm the flattulent
sigh that life is; the same
money
stolen from the same fools
by the same bastards, over and over,
the old man wipes coffee
from his lips, moves his ass
in the chair. It's his soul
that's pissing
him off, that bag of gas where
the unerupted erections of his youth
collapse in wards, drool on
drop
cloths for the desires that
created them,
abandoned them for some Olympian
ice palace in the cloud
[Originally
published in NHS 2003, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs03/ruggia.html.]