My bridge I have reached
For lungs to fill with choke
And thirst with fizz
Where pornography flutters her hair
And drowns limbs amongst foliage
Broad leaves
In one spot chemically burnt
Light brown and dead
Where the ditch spews in
A slight weir manmade
For the muddy coloured wet
To skip
To mix with trickled under bridge
I observe cars approach
In this solitude placed
Back turned
Gulping usefully at fag
As they and I should intersect
Gazes and acknowledgement
Won’t play between us
Or my strategically oblique face
Rendered fuck off
I’m in my own sweat
But they do swirl the verge
Suck and fold
Green plump sensations
Reheld He drifts reverent
Towards English painter scene
Cows in field
Cooled in shadows of Italian trees
Bubble up tumescent arboreal
White mirrored froth
In sky
Slunked beneath
Heated pleasant
He tosses cig to water
And watches
For as far as seen
Then unimagined
27.7.09
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1 comment:
just stunning...
i want to bite this....and that's a compliment
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