Sometimes some really good work has to be left on the cutting room floor. This collection, “Burnt Ends and Caterpillar Poems”, contains pieces left out of other collections for various reasons. They appear together here for the first time. Please be aware of some adult language and situations.
felt the warm and sudden spray
of the sergeant’s French Silk Stockings,
as he lay half-sprawled on the beautiful,
oh so beautiful, oh so beautiful,
opened up, yes lord, really opened up
my store-bought British cigars
and gave the Krauts holy bloody hell,
while little grateful girly girlies
danced on our open bellies.
oh! the nights we had together,
my sweet sweet Marie,
nestled in the entrails
of some guy who smoked luckies,
(and could not run to save
his life magazines)
I felt safe in your civilian
arms, and ate my chocolate.
how I wish Ike could be with me now,
now in my finest hour of needhe’d
take me up in those paternal arms
and just hold me just hold me
and tell me how necessary all this was,
and we would cry together
like men who smoked luckies,
and and and i’d show him
I take a GI shit on all of you now,
you gutless Axis cowards,
I hate your fucked-up little hats,
And your full-bird bellies
full of German piss winesalute
this, you ungrateful picture-takers;
this is my rifle, my great pussy equalizer,
any you cocksuckers want a piece of me now?
I KNOW WHO YOU ARE NOW!
I AM YOURS NOW AND YOU ARE MINE!
(medicine administered 3 Nov 1944)
and I saw a new-fangled heaven,
and a ranch-style earth:
for the German artillery
had reduced the old ones
to rubble and stories
for the grandchildren.