domingo, 22 de novembro de 2009




I was a quick wet boy
Diving too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes

Wide on my plastic toys
Then when the cops closed the fair
I cut my long baby hair
Stole me a dog-eared map
And called for you everywhere...

Have I found you?
Flightless bird
Jealous, weeping...
Or lost you?
American mouth
Big pill looming.

Now I'm a fat house cat
Nursing my sore blunt tongue
Watching the warm poison rats
Curl through the wide fence cracks
Pissing on magazine photos
Those fishing lures thrown in the cold and clean
Blood of Christ mountain stream.



Have I found you?
Flightless bird
Grounded, bleeding...
Or lost you?
American mouth

Big pill, stuck going down.

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