Shiny guitars with drooping necks in the sun
Terrified trees that cloud get tangled in
Scabby babies with well-trimmed moustaches
"Doing the rounds, doing the rounds", replies the moon with a shrug of his shoulders.
Empty faces of hope which fold and unfold like handfans
Drugged up coats smother wearers in a fit of paranoia
Bellies glued, tattooed to the neck, my dear, where next from here?
My baby ranges from heaven in the face to a bubbling swamp depending on how the light falls about her.
...
lunes, 4 de octubre de 2010
My lovely host
goes around
flasing smiles
kissing cheeks
My lovely host
works by day
comes in at eight
says hi
loves us all like family
My lovely host
leaves albums around
and artwok
turned towards corners like
bold children
towels, sheets, biscuits
and tea. if
My lovely host
came to be hosted by me
it just wouldn't be
the same.
...
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