at this new place
I have a new office
I don’t look at it as an office
I look at it as my room
my place
my sanctuary
my church
my own whorehouse
with me as it’s only
occupant
the place is a shit tip
envelops and mailers
ripped up
on the floor
I have a collection of
empty wine bottle behind me
to my left in the corner
I have a graveyard
of empty cigarette packs
that I will eventually
tear up and use
as bookmarks
I’m surrounded by
the greatest books that
have ever been written
I sit at this desk
write my amazing poems
listening to music
if I’m not writing
I stand up over at the dresser
reading these great books
to get inspired
then come back here and write
chain smoke
and drink bottle after bottle
of red wine
until the sun comes up
I’m in here the majority
of the day
it seems like
I better start making
a little scratch
off this writing thing
before my wife
realizes that I’m a sham
then the jig will be up
I’ll have to go be a real human
get a job
to make some other fucker rich
while barely getting paid
enough
to live in the most horrible
and awful way imaginable
if you are reading this
you can send your
check or money order
fuck, even cash
to:
Matt Wall
P.O. Box 5502
Sugarloaf, Ca. 92386
join me for POETIC ANARCHY, a 4 week poetry course where we make sure that WHAT you say is more important that HOW you say. Sign up now for a huge discount! Only through this week!
