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What Colour
Is Poetry?
(Reading not
aloud)
we are both there or not there
embrace nothing
and she yeah she
stuck him good, like he was a
balloon...you shoulda seen
his face pop, like one second
he was in it and the next
soaring high
above the flood.
I see the bedraggled
bodies
floating beneath, and think of each:
descartes, hume, kant are
my instruments I play
them well
but women dig guitars
whisper your love beneath the bitter rose
bare beauty as delicate as death
I lust after your shadow
-- D*S
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