Last Poem Before
Oregon
Slept in groves of oranges
Visited by only wet nurse bees
Shaded by impossible leaves
Clouds the drifting shapes of which made harlequin
Dreams disturbed gently by nimble hums
A voice like Marcello young again
Lip sticking fully curved
Remember the time
We discovered our deep lush alikeness
And rose, perfect stamens
A fruit of aching beauty
Wrote
(for Olga Blue)
The City I Live In
stiletto
fingers thorough search
organic
testament
piercing
releasing fluid
rainbow of
bad colours
bread crumb
numb
in the
aftermath
in the mean
time
the dry
before place
cruellest
patience
weight weight
weight waiting
no exit
clung
concrete tit
iron penis
pierced
willing any
peace for any price
for any sense
of soothing
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