Thursday, April 07, 2011

A.J. Huffman: Three Poems

If I Had Been Born In The Thirties

I could have been a Bukowski.
A Kerouac.
I could have traveled
Lived alone.
Worked odd jobs.
And slept in the dirt.
I could have had the balls.
I could have had the stamina.
If I had been born in the thirties.

If I had been born in the thirties
my writing could have been filled
with strange places.
Strange faces.
A groupie here.
A fan there.
And a few whores
(if you can label a man a whore --
I believe I can)
in between.
I could have smoked.
And drank.
And raised hell
with the best of them.
I could have.
I would have.
If I had been born in the thirties.

If I had been born in the thirties
you could never have --
you would never have --
read these words.
If I had been born in the thirties.
I could never have held this space.

The Devil’s Plaything

in a forgotten corner
of a room
she calls hell,
a tiny angel
huddles closer
to the fire.

She is tired.
And exposed.
But for the filthy ash
that covers the points
of her wings.
Too heavy
to carry her
to dawn.

So she waits.
Feeding her skin
with the stolen gift
of some imagined god.
For the beast
that will make her
his bride.

Without Language

“Absolutes are coercion.”
                        -- Allen Ginsberg

I do not believe in edit.
Change a word.
Change a line.
You have changed the mind.
That thought --
no --
that knew.
The shape before the silence.
Is gold.

A.J. Huffman is a poet and freelance writer in Daytona Beach, Florida.  She has previously published her work in literary journals, in the U.K. as well as America, such as Avon Literary Intelligencer, Eastern Rainbow, Medicinal Purposes Literary Review, The Intercultural Writer's Review, Icon, Writer's Gazette, and The Penwood Review.  

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