PUNK POETRY: Two Poems by Matthew Freeman
Untitled It was another bloodless revolution today at Starbucks. I myself spoke for twenty-three minutes straight and at the end no one knew what I'd said. As Q-Tip pointed out somewhere in the canon, that is some heartfelt shit here. Moment I was in the ER with my little sister worried and wondering just how selfish it would be if I got up and walked to the bathroom to pee and get a drink from the faucet— all of the fountains were still shut down— and then I wondered how selfish it would be to read my Dean Koontz and as all this appeared in my mind I wondered how selfish it is to compose a poem in your head when your sister’s in the ER and then my revery was broken when my sister interrupted the silence and said, “This is how I should start my memoir. You know, In Media Res.” Well. Right before I wrote this I was smoking and as I looked down fondly at my cigarette it occurred to me that it’s now been thirty years since I had that special moment in a Holiday Inn at the bo