Infinity Everywhere But Here

To be young and searching
for infinity in the stars
or lines of broken zen verse
chasing Buddha to the bottom
of the endless bottles of booze

Or down highways in the belly
of massive metal beast with no
roadmap to guide us just poems
in our hearts black coffee and a
tattered copy of On The Road

Smoking tea and screaming at the
holy ghost of madman Li-Po
looking for cracks in the rigid
mold of perception and heaven
in between women's creamy thighs

Always searching for infinity
too caught up in little journeys
to notice it was always there
and all we had was nothing
and that was worth everything

Reaching For Heaven Through The Flies

Hard streets
illuminated by neon
of bar signs

and flashes of God
in dingy alleyways
downtown with

quiet confessions of
flesh and bone so life
may not fall on deaf ears

on stained death beds
alone with final breaths
of lonesome regret

our scrawny souls
reaching for heaven
through flies

self obsessed smiles
grinding yellow teeth
desperate to exist

our frailty cannot be
masked by hanging
flesh on tired bone

flesh is just flesh
it only rots and
betrays you

in the end

Wayne Mason is a writer and proletariat
from central Florida. He has been published
widely in the small press and is the author
of four chapbooks, the newest is now available
from httpcovertpress.com

2008 Underground Voices