Desperate for Words

Poetry, prosetry, revelry, riotry

About Gary Goodman

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I am painter I am writer I am father I copy myself I chew the inside of my mouth I won’t murder anybody neither for money or love I refuse to make anybody feel small I do what it is I do I do my best which is what I feel is right with no self-seeking motive I am not a shaman yet I could easily be the wounded healer to many or to one I’m asthmatic and psoriatic I am weak in mind I don’t eat meat and I can’t drink coffee I smoke and drink and in my wheezy chest-tightened stricture I am at edge of storm splashing paint vomiting words most importantly looking for life amongst the ashtrays and sticky glasses and unmade beds and late night telephone calls and trans-Atlantic flights and… come on! there’s no way I would cut off my ear and definitely I couldn’t shoot myself because it seems to me that there is always the possibility of something wonderful lurking like a maggot at the bottom of a Tequila bottle just around the corner


Written by garygoodman

November 17, 2008 at 1:58 pm

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