More poems by Wolf Larsen

Wolf Larsen is an adventurer, novelist, playwright, and poet. Wolf has traveled through 45 countries in Latin America, Europe, the Middle East, and Asia. For nearly twelve years, Wolf Larsen worked on a seasonal basis in Alaska. Wolf has lived in Chicago, Wisconsin, New York City, Ecuador, Alaska, Honduras, Brazil, and Peru. Wolf has recently completed an autobiographical novel entitled Travel Around the World? Why Not?! His internet site is- http://www.WolfLarsen.org

A Baby is an Old Man in a Second

 I write my poems with your flesh oozing and dancing out of my pen, suddenly everybody's pregnant and there are thousands of buildings sprouting out of the walls in your living room and your girlfriend's tummy begins growing like a monologue, suddenly poems start shooting out of every floating molecule and poems are floating out of every animal and every plant and every person because everything on the earth is festering with poetry, you begin kissing all the lines of poetry until you are a circle, everyone is mailing you their own personal sky, so you're driving alongside the Mekong in Laos in a motorcycle and the people stare with thousands of eyes crawling all over your white skin forever, and if you think nuclear war can never happen sit at that gray pond in Treblinki – everything horrible can happen. horrible can happen.

 

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Pour the Horn that Walks and Runs a Shipwreck

The beginning is a spiraling note and the center of the sky is a raging brilliance and the waves and the wind are scurrying and panicking and the poem begins swinging its hammer and your dreams are crashing over the world night and day and the brilliance of the center of the sky is burning words into the page and the lines of poetry are running and running west and north and south and east – wherever you look across the world you see the poem and the poem is making love to a symphony, wherever you look Shostakovich is conducting a poem that grabs the skies and the poem turns the sky into its slave – the whole universe crushing into itself and falling towards the poem the poem weighs more than the earth and less than a grain of sugar the poem is a circling highway up and down the words and the poem flies out of itself and everything on earth is jumping in and out of the poem and you swing a sledgehammer into the poem and it collapses.


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