Long Poems on Ernest Hemingway

a man can get so drunk, he can’t spell his own name,
yet he can hunch over his table in a saloon, pull a blue pen from his
coat pocket, secure a ruled page from the serving girl that she ripped
out of a ledger, & compose the most beautiful, heart-broken poem.  
let the whiskey spill & the tears fall where they may.

in the trenches of a bullet-scathed nightmare, I fire my weapon through
the fear in my eyes, Bogart & Hemingway at my flanks. when the enemy
rifles have gone silent, we rise from the pits like forlorn shadows & ...

Burrowing bitter statues of    
Deaf progeny stalled out    
over a sea of pining peripatetics  
Born into it;  
with feet that read like a Hemingway novel  
 
Intestinal inertia insulating the leagues of  
Internal Corruption conspiracies  
the communist combination digesting in obscurity    
cracked figment begging facade  
for material manifestation  
facade kicking godless eternity in the head    
the unexplored divided depths newly informed  
of cancerous cells in the water supply
prognosticating...