My Machinegun Is Always Loaded

My Machinegun Is Always Loaded
by Catfish McDaris

Putting my fist through
a brick wall of frustration
from comments about my writing

“How much do you make?”
“All your friends are weirdos & faggots”
“Are you turning gay?”
“You’re out of stamps again?”
“Don’t you talk about anything but poetry?”
“Did you get paid this time?”
“Fuck Charles Bukowski, are you in love with him?”
“Another goddamn reading?”
“Why can’t you be like other people?”

I look into their accusing eyes
& question myself,
the clock won’t rewind
& I’m not thinking maybe I should
grow pussy willows or zinnias

I roll another virgin
into the typer
smile & unzip.

1 thought on “My Machinegun Is Always Loaded

  1. Yeah! Gun em’ down. Assaults us with the remarks we all get or could be getting and then ends with a curt sexual metaphor for poetic intercourse with the world at large. Good show.

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