Dumb Angel

blood heirs of malaria, and Prozac,
Vietnam and booze;
my muses are madmen all,
i am drawn to them,
or to the edge within,
show me,
not too close,
just show me the line

and a derelict blesses cars,
perhaps I’ll write a poem,
and I read Shakespeare until my fingers bleed,
because there are better places than here,
there are better places than here.

?