- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Sangria Bloodshed
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Wineskin drippings
plastered across the front page,
spitting words I do not understand.
Americans curse in letters
three inches high
as photojournalists wait
for the proper light
to snap Pulitzer Prize winning stuff.
The blizzard drifts
from jungle sweat to banks
of powdered snow for the junkies
on Wall Street,
the New York cartels…
money and hype
and bullshit.
The cat knocks my arm,
spilling my wine and soaking
the page in sangrian ooze,
wiping out some sidebar story
about the families
and the victims.
Note to self: Next time,
be more careful with the wine.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 36,500 poems.
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Anonymousabout 18 years agoJD- I wish you were still here with us. Your words, no matter what about, were always so beautiful. I wish you well, no matter what you are doing, and I will always treasure This Sanguine Water. Thank you, my lost friend.
Boo
Anonymousover 19 years agoThis paints a wonderful..powerful picture.. Now I see the E us for Evertyhing~~ Great poem~~*note to self* read more jd4george~~
LilDarlin~
lostandfounderover 19 years agoA simple and clear statement told with style. Is it worth an "E"? Maybe, but it is certainly worth a five.
Nice work!
