Is greatness found in a bottle of Gin?
Or how about in an Opium den?
Is it the Wormwood then?
The electrical charge from these drugs has
created art as beautiful and grotesque as nature itself.
You see Poe- A strungout genius-high on opium-engraving
our own desires for just one kiss of amontillado
Van Gogh-with an absent ear- drinking absinthe-
pressing out images-bringing to life-
our cradled fears
And you see my grandfather at nine a.m.
drinking his martini and talking about labor relations
at Candlestick Park
slowly uncovering the truth to me
Showing me that being great
is really about falling apart.
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