joe helbling

Something Needed

Nietzsche sits in a corner
Thumbing the bruise he can't
Remember acquiring,
The aches of a foreshadowed insanity
Litter the pathways that lead to end.

Shockingly, a pallid thigh rolls out
From under lamb-skin spreads,
His imagination grows visions of an ivy love
No longer forlorn,
However, the Indian ink sneaking around
Ankle tells of a different story-

She knows nothing of this art.

Inspiration hits him as a fist that can't
Remember swinging.