in a world whose heart has been extracted
By
Grant Guy
in a world whose heart has been extracted from hope
i am on my own w/o a name or face
i stand in my naked clothes of deception
behind a dead mic
i howl & howl & whimper & whimper
to an empty space w/o dimensions
but no one no one has come to hear me
my words are the empty words of a dying antonin artaud
sputtering meaningless syllable & yaps for hours on end
cruelty and kindness are dismembered
& thrown like johnny’s appleseeds
into the long loneliness of the void beyond nothing
b/c i am god’s orphan
His Story: An Observation
By
Grant Guy
His wife’s stroke he turned it into a story being all about him
His father-in-law’s funeral became all about him.
When Reagan was shot it was definitely a story about him
Oh, let us not forget about his sister dying from leukemia
Nor to mention the molestation and murder of the 69 year old housewife
The Blue Jays winning the World Series
The bus plunge in El Salvador I
n his mind they were all about him
That was the kind of guy he was
So when he died
And no one showed up
It was all about him