wrote these after re-reading Kristofer Collins' wonderful book
King Everything:
slogging through saturday streets
slogging through saturday streets
in march rain
nasal cough harpooning my chest
gray and hobbled on sore ankle
embarrassed amongst the pigeons
and dead rats
i seek refuge in the piss scented bus
open up your book of poems
find my cobwebbed name
mixed amidst your calliope words
and comet memories.
she asks me why
she asks me why
i don’t make new friends
i want to tell her that
i had dozens of friends
years ago
but i gave them up
through laziness in fear
only i don’t think
she’ll buy that
so i tell her that
i’m shy
instead.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment