for the comedian

Hey, I just found out George Carlin died and I wrote a poem about him. I know, I know, pretty hokey, but hey, heroes are hard to find, plus, why not indulge when the moment is right? Well, here's my poem (try not to cry too hard).

to George

in a black mask

of

all hair and consuming

nothing

he shouted against a picket fence

and

crawled upon

the Empire State Building

screaming

sex

and death

and

lust

and that in all of our circumstance

he believed

to be blank ghosts clung

to gutters

shrieking

madness

oh madness

oh

sweet and awful

and

humorous madness