katz

Vincent Katz

Three Poems

Verve’s Room

That violence was all a part of it It’s okay about the milk I love the workers The ones who really get it done Films in the gutter, the pan Obstacles acceded friend Blanketed lust extended Foreign entities tiled Metropolitan As the lady in furs bent over perusing the muffins, she glided back to her skinny table, blackly Good Friday the eagle of right thought lands at my feet and smiles I can know each of them without ever speaking can tell this one is good by the way she combs her hair that one has a tragic failing need to please, each breathes a trembling, avid humanity and I know each without speaking, like a farmer

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