Poem – Moth’s HolidayPosted: March 4, 2011
Vicious and Powerful Poem
I Hope to Put This to Music and Perform it in a Squat
A doors bangs in the night by way of hinges on frame
Who is that in the parlour?
We can but jut out callously by the fire place
With cut knobs.
Now dashed by the rain and wind
We think about the spider that eats our earth
As we crease our way sobbing to
Circuses lit up like frothing pies
The moth contemplates not.
He is on holiday,
In the barn where we fucked a dog