When You Haven't Got A Leg To Stand On, This One Wins Hands Down

Because

The way I see it, penning 
Poems about writing 
Poetry is as grotesque 
As waking up to find 
A glaring rosy-

Fingered dawn luridly
Fondling your very own 
Brand spanking new heart-
Throbbing precious lower 
Third limb, stud.


 

You Heard It Here First, Oldtimer

Hey,

Whatever happened 
To good old you-know-who

That kept on saying Here 
Today, you-know-what 

Gone to ever so 
Lasting morrow? 

To Each His Own--Time Warped Homonyms, Too

One of these days 
You’ll discover that 
Living with yourself 

Has become so 
Exhilarating as going through 
The rest of your life digging 

Out of the black hole 
Of the daze you’ve dug 
Yourself wholly into. 

To Whom It May Concern

new from facqueuesol paperless books

the intricate evasions of as

selected poems,1980-2010

(part one)

by

vassilis zambaras

read it for free at

https://facqueuesol-books.jimdofree.com/the-intricate-evasions-of-as/

Wild-eyed And Wooly Rebel Have-not

Unfettered 
From the commonplace 
In the wilderness 

Of his thoughts, he keeps 
An eye out for any 
Encroaching 

Domesticated strays hell- 
Bent on shaping
His made-to-order universe

Into a world full 
Of nothing but empty 
Have-lots of naught. 

Elusive Poet's Clearly Indefinite Longing

I want 
To describe 

A certain indescribable 
Hue of yellow 

By looking closely 
At how 

I cannot.

Discrete Series Ruse Number One

Muse, no matter 
Where or when 
I find myself wanting, 
Without fail I try 
Sounding out 
Those most discreet— 
Yea, coy even, vocables— 
By counting back- 
Wards from a hundred, 
Always coming up against 
That most singular constant 
Loneliest one, my old friend.