Barbed Poetry by Rob Plath

one night i was drunk & ate pumpkin seeds
i had that ferocious wine hunger
i didn’t shell them
in fact, i hardly chewed them
my fingers were coordinating enough to
just move from bag to mouth
the next day i suffered though
first came the shells like tiny thorns
passing through the asshole
a wincing barbed wire shit
then the paper with streaks of shit & blood
that’s a fucking metaphor for poetry
if there ever was one
devouring the world in big gulps
without preparing it first
without safely stripping it to the soft seed
then letting the barbs rip through you
squeezing out blood & shit on the page

Rob Plath is a 46-yea-old poet from New York. He has over a dozen books out. He is most known for his collection A BELLYFUL OF ANARCHY (epic rites press). He lives alone with his cat and stays out of trouble. See more of his work at

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