Sunday, August 2nd, 2009

gary goude | more poems

A NOTE TO MY LOVE
It is not you
Mr. death
that I dread
but the next sunrise
with me watching.
My teeth
fall out
on schedule.
The gravestones
are still handmade.
The bones
pile up quickly.
The dead
are gathered
each morning
placed in rows
decorated with granite
and there is no more room.
Our children
build their cities
upon our flesh.
There is only one season
and it rains blood.
The rivers are choked
with bodies
lined with vultures
bloated [...]

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Friday, July 31st, 2009

gary goude | sad lives

SAD LIVES
She told me
her life was useless.
“Of course”
I said
“All of them are.”
She said
she was sad
had been all along.
“That is
a sign of
tremendous
intelligence”
I replied
taking a good hit
off the bottle
of Early Times
we were sharing.
“No, I mean
I am depressed.”
I grabbed
her right breast
poured whiskey
upon it, then kissed
her mouth,
felt my
cock
engorge with blood
and looked into her soul.
“Baby
you don’t
understand’”
I said.
“Love will
not save us.
Fucking [...]

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Friday, July 31st, 2009

gary goude | jake’s dream

JAKE’S DREAM
Shit
me and Jake
we’d hit the clock
at 6:AM
Jake pulled the handle
of three 30 year old
Cumming’s drill presses
and I’d set up the Gleasons
making gears
for the machines that kept
Brandon
26 year old fresh kid
son of the owner in his white shirts
to impress his blond
23 year old wife.
Soon as we got our
ten minute break
we’d
head for the shitter
and kill
a pint
of [...]

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Thursday, May 7th, 2009

todd moore | gary goude and that crushed rotting dawg

Every

significant poet is surrounded by a cluster of unyieldingly savage images which define both him and the age. Gary Goude is a compelling example. When I wrote the introduction to his first chapbook, A CRUSHED ROTTING DOG published by Fine Human Wreckage Press back in 1995, I was drawn to both the honesty and the violence of his work. The cover of DOG reveals a snapshot of Goude drinking from what looks like a bottle of vodka or possibly gin. He’s sitting on a white bench in front of a house window which sports the sign, Beware of Dog.

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Tags: Gary Goude, Outlaw, Outlaw Poetry, Poetry, Todd Moore