January 11, 2015
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on New York/January
i Women in fur coats hustle past stacks of dead pines. Christmas cadavers. ii A pitcher is worth 16 thousand dollars, when sold from truck garages. iii 8th Avenue reeks of spruce and marijuana. Cold breath? Cannabis. iv Dead gorilla … Continue reading
June 13, 2013
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on For Madmen Only
“You are willing to die, you coward, but not to live.” ― Hermann Hesse, Steppenwolf The frailty is apparent.
December 9, 2012
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Fall Haiku For the District of Columbia
Through a Washington autumn, a Panda paces, contemplating what?
July 24, 2012
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Manifesto Of A Festival Dancing Man
Goddamn, I am fucked up. But there’s a good beat drumming from inside of me and I need to let loose for these people. This shit! It was my song, back when my brain worked. Cameo, En Vogue, Cool … Continue reading
July 24, 2012
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on English Haiku: Corpse Pose
Deep shavasana, broken by Foxtrot searchlights. Summer yoga in Baltimore. -G. Hunter
June 23, 2012
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Quirkiness and the Corner Zombies
A zoological exhibit. Or its equivalent. That’s how the man carrying ice blocks wrapped in plastic describes this mosaic. He spits. The saliva curdles on asphalt. Those who smell of money only gaze upon a gorilla in a ballcap, … Continue reading
May 10, 2012
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on At The End Of (Laundry) Time
You are naked, save for your white lace cartoon kitten underwear. they’re all that’s left; the clothes rise before you in a pyramid. How did the pile grow so high, the cotton, these wools and flannel? You, bare, stare at … Continue reading
March 4, 2011
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Poem: Untitled
i had no idea i’m still really sorry about the beach i HAVE to stop drunk dialing people i don’t ever want to travel with Kevin’s friends again tho they are all hot messes i guess like me -Anonymous
January 7, 2011
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Songs in Prose: Drive-By Truckers “Birthday Boy”
Which one’s the birthday boy?” she said. “I ain’t got all night.” “What your momma name you? You can call me what you like.” Every skinny’s a mystery, gotta make it hard some how. “Sit your narrow ass down hot … Continue reading
May 11, 2009
by Geoff Shannon
Comments Off on Poem: Plumbing
Worst ever, what I blurted her plumbing didn’t work. I bit my cheek, broke skin. Your plumbing doesn’t work. I am unskilled day labor and the caulk I lay doesn’t hold. Heart palpitations glisten through saline But your plumbing … Continue reading