Tuesday, September 02, 2008

30 second poem of suicide

so stuff your foot in my mouth
let me watch you undress

your names are those of wild fields in the wind

yesterday this man this weird man I thought then with a large bag
I am an ex-offender he says buy some kitchen items from me

I well really I thought he says sex offender
couldn't get past the image of him pushing someone down
in wet grass

the house is tumbledown hillsides
little men cling to its sides

half-Japanese he looks to me
with bags full of torpedoes
I don't know what to say
I am a fool from the long moments of grass

I can't buy nothing I say I am filled with slime and wet gloves

what about that what about
he walks away watching me
lumbers back roaring

got to slam the door to keep him out

his big bag full of rain his implements
of afternoon prophecy
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