i cycle past cows munching on rotting marigold garlands
in
the garbage dump
it is time taken
off to paint though not a single thing is made
apparently i am in
a slump
it
rains and the streetlights all become shower-heads
where the termites
come to die
i see an owlet on
the wires and write a poem about it
i’m told it made
someone cry
i wake up thinking
i’m in your bed, posters of pearl jam in my head
and somehow, quang
duc, the vietnamese monk
you invite me to
the party and i make a fool of myself
it seems i got
really drunk
2 comments:
Best line - 'streetlights become shower heads'!
ya, i like it too :)
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