Saturday 16 July 2011

Dunk.




Sex, the only place to be-

Where can I set this animal free?

Hush- violent- city- days-

Roar gently in a night cave.

Waterfall.

Mossy stone.

Feet on the ground.



Must I always bow my brain

To they who are humanely lame?

In words indulged,

In speech-drowned kittens,

In mirrored halls they self-swagger-smitten

With reflection.

But to no decent end.

And as I watch I just get sicker

And sicker.

I get so much sicker.



The modern is a cage

On a deconstructed meadow

With a sleeping golden lion

Beneath sun-barred shadow.

Column

After

Column

Elevate the flawless,

My empty sire.











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