A journal of poetry and art :: archives / oct 2012 / david greenspan. From THEN I’m some sort of balloon child getting thrown around by wind breath as I float towards the ceiling of a narrow sky. There is no white light but I swear my teeth growl so fucking loud and explode but the storks can’t fly and the planes can’t listen. This is silly enough to laugh about and I do, deep laughs and I see a girl whose neck cracks open like a Pez dispenser. Fog rolls out or maybe music notes roll out and she floats with no wings and dragonflies have eaten my wings and the sky never looked so cherry raw. Bring me an adventure, Disney World was boring she says and my mouth doesn’t work so I touch her fingers with all my fingers and I touch her hips with all my fingers and I touch her with all my fingers and then we are at the top of the sky, the very top of the sky and nothing is here but it’s okay so we float off noting the absence of concrete and there are deer prints everywhere.
Anti- » David Greenspan Poetry. Thunder Sandwich #25 - David Greenspan poetry. 'MY NAME IS DYLAN AND WHAT I AM IS DRUNK' by David Greenspan. Optimism, circa the early to mid ’90’s by David Greenspan // VINYL POETRY.