Poem Up at AMARYLLIS
Poem Up at AMARYLLIS : Piece of My Heart Piece of My Heart Ms. Joplin your voice rips apart my face, my tie― the mark of all hanged men. My remains roll on the ground and the edge of your voice blows my Monday into pieces. I have the hunger of the employee staring with contempt at the image of his face in the glass door. My hunger, a factory of anxieties, its certainties, is convinced that nothing will improve, that this flagship raised during youth will also sink. My last refuge will have to be the skin or the solitary bottle of whisky. Janis, your voice is a knife vibrating in the throat of pain. But now silence. I have come to the place where little masters live and I hurry to annihilate the desire of damning all to hell.