Tuesday, October 23, 2007

a sample poem

To whet the reader's appetite, i hope, here's one poem from the thing.


half past six is almost night
and the gone dead sun shines
nothing on us, i welcome cold like
a cloak smoking on the balcony
in shorts, and i hope that the sun
that loves us comes again tomorrow
and i hope that in every passionate
flat in every house i see before me
everybody over sixteen gets to fuck
at least twice tonight with someone
they will love for the rest of their life
and i hope that time will be kind
to them and they kind to