SADIST. By Brian Rihlmann

perhaps forgetting is the 

greatest part of the art of living

but a poet forgets nothing—

in fact he tears open old wounds 

often enough to ensure that they 

never heal...that they

glow angry and red

red as birth and death 

red as blood, heart, and fire

red as red rimmed eyes

after a thousand years of tears

he dips his pen deep 

into their red pools—

a source inexhaustible...

and if he does his job

even those who scoff at 

such trivial things 

such effeminate and useless things 

as feelings

will shiver 

as the words infest

as the words become the hand

drawing back the curtain 

on a secret room 

filled with imprisoned 

and hungry ghosts

that will now

speak

Brian Rihlmann was born in NJ, and currently lives in Reno, NV. He writes mostly semi autobiographical, confessional free verse, much of it on the so-called "grittier" side.  Folk poetry...for folks. He has been published in Constellate Magazine, Poppy Road Review, and has an upcoming piece in The American Journal Of Poetry.