March 26, 2010


by John Rocco

Blown another deadline.
My writing never
happening it feels.
Why are deadlines
so deadly
scaring the ink?
It’s like deadlines
are dead letters
dead men drunk
and being without her.
Deadlines end it all.
I don’t want to end
it all.
I want to drink the Shogun’s sake
and piss it out on the moon
or the sun
like Mishima
whose last deadline
he carved into his
hard belly
like writing.

*John Rocco at MySpace:


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