Poetry by Sean C. Bowen

unfinished journal entry

last night i smoked hash in a glass pipe
sipped cheap wine from a dixie cup
shawagunk mountains, cold air, bonfire
i wasn’t listening to a word she said
all i could imagine was later
how we’ll sleep together
her, rolled over on her side with her back to me
curled up, legs bent
i think they call it spooning
i like it this way
she can’t see me –
i don’t have to look at her
my hard-on pressed against her ass
i know she is tired, breathing heavily, looking for dream
then, i
pull down the back of her panties exposing her
with one hand gently lift a cheek and guide myself into her vagina
this is what i’ve waited all day for…why i went to the party
she says “i love you” during climax
again i ignore her
and think only of myself
and to the moment that i will make my retreat




When Writing

in my notebook
never write on the pages in order
just flip open to any blank space at all
and allow the words to unfold freely
descend again into the lines on the page
giving my pen the run of the place
it’s definitely the alpha here
might even write something obscene or vulgar
but wait
even in nature – the wolf kills
and isn’t that part of the beauty of it all?
so it’s like this-
a troublesome pack of words might slowly and deliberately
stalk and attack like rituals for survival
hunting with precision because there are young ones to feed
ensuring indeed a strong new generation
while the weak slip away in silence
it IS nature i tell you.


One response to “Poetry by Sean C. Bowen

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