Tom Pescatore

A wonderful nightmare thing
I'm unaccustomed to afternoon drawling on on on
window open and air-conditioning—
I turn tho my voice is raspy and low, somehow
try to tell about the portrait painted,
a likeness paint and colors and crying
but I'm quiet, sound is weighed by gravity
how funny, I'm dying like Gerard
explaining his oil and water and acrylic lyric
I don't remember why,
He died 58 years before
blood soaked I lost my fight with
bleak existence


Tom Pescatore grew up outside Philadelphia, and is a founding member of the growing punk/lit scene within the city. He hopes to meet Kerouac one day in Heaven or Oblivion. He maintains a poetry blog: His work has been published in Thunderclap, Kerouac’s Dog Magazine, Dark Lane Quarterly, Waterways, Derelict, Hudson View and Poets and Artists Magazine; and is forthcoming in the Chiron Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, The Heron's Nest, Penwood Review and Idiom Literary Magazine