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4 Poems by Wilson Koewing


I saw you dashing in an open field
you noticed me and stopped to stare.
I was just a boy then.
You spun and ran
and though I’m sure I appeared to chase
it was never my desire to catch you.
Only to run, too
and watch the grass tips sway in the breeze as the sun perished.


I’m walking like no one has ever walked.
I am legend never die tonight.
Walk like,
Stand and ball my fist.
Hold my head to sky,
Where old glory flies.
Never Die tonight.
I’m standing like no one has ever stood.
Underwater love that carries on.
Samurai swords slice the careless being down
It’s like the lightning flash
Wonder where I went.
Worry never if.
I will slice and dice.
Carry on this place,
this beautiful disease.
I walk around as no one else but me.


The penthouse at the Monteleone is crisp,
white snow on glass tables,
fuel up as I go,
didn’t pay a dime,
I get whatever I want because they’re feeling alone,
designer presents opened
doors closed,
then the begging texts:
when we can meet next?
The sun shines through curtains,
seeking my skin out,
new day,
new hustle,
new marks to scout.
the mirror is lucky.
It watches the Gucci bra fasten.
The Cartier necklace click.
The matching earrings toss a gleam off the light back.
Close the door
and leave the suite pining.
The king bed groans.
The shower runs cold.
The mini-bar drinks.
Revolving door spins.
Dior flats meet Royal Street sidewalk.
Nine to five was never the life for me.
I watch these broads in Ann Taylor pantsuits step out of Toyotas
and walk these cracked sidewalks in four-inch heels begging for snapped ankles.
I laugh through blunt smoke.
Stuck in a box making for 40 hours what I spend on a night’s bar tab.
Silly skirts,
running on treadmills.
I watch through two-thousand-dollar Yves Saint Laurent frames.
As sidewalks fall into the Earth in my wake.

Going Tasmanian

I’d like to present a wild ride that goes to nowhere
and watch people line up like oh I know him.
A generation that thinks not caring is cool.
Let’s Google a few things to make the animals drool.
And beg for likes from shit people like cannibal stool.
Can’t help but wonder what Joe Camel would do.
I quit, but fuck it
guess I’ll have a Camel or two
and a Chardonnay to start my day.
All the things that could have been.
Anfernee “Penny” Hardaway.
Walking around on eggshells,
But why?
don’t care.
Listen to me and stop talking,
You Babylonian.
Stop macing your victims as they near death,
You Macedonian.
I’ve forgotten more stories than Coppola’s short story generator could find.
Am I drunk on wine?
Is it a Thursday?
Only question is Sonoma or Napa?
Trout Frank Mask Vincent Replica Zappa
Waiter, I’m curious how the beef heart is?
Walking thesaurus.
What bar’s this?
Gar fish.
Who hardy har hars the hardest?
Probably Doom.
Ghost Town Brewing IPA Exhume.
Bocas Del Toro
Panamanian views.
Rick Ravishing Rude
Scared to death I might go Tasmanian soon
Oppenheimer a nuclear rocket thats range is the moon.
A lovely gated building with a padded bedroom.
Hit the seven eleven for a burrito, push the rocket’s button and watch.
Drunk as a mosquito backstroking in scotch.
Doing the Queen Elizabeth wave goodbye to climate fear.
If we’re choosing I choose Hell,
but I also hear Heaven is lovely this time of year.

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