Thursday, December 27, 2018



I live in a small town, where out in the graveyard,
a sign warns: security cameras are watching.
Look out for the flash of the lens in the night-time.
It’s to stop you from fucking under bright gothic moons;
or from making a porno; or from pissing on trees;
or from smacking a vein so you can dream with the dead.
It’s to keep you from sleeping with a stone for a wind-break
when you’re homeless, with nowhere on Earth where you’re welcome.
The graves might look picturesque covered in snow,
but a greasy corpse stiff from the cold scares the public.
Do the decent thing, die like the wild birds, unseen.
That way your name won’t get into the papers.

--Bruce Hodder

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