Tuesday 16 September 2014

LORCA AND BUCKOWSKI IN MY GARDEN




the garden is there
like
a
lawn lays down
identical to itself with unsecrets
and
at
three o clock
its
three o clock on the dot
and
brother bear
stretches out in the chair
sitting
in
limbo
like a framed picture is there
hanging inevitable 
from a nail banged in paint
from 
tins
rusting
with bent lids
twisted like deformity is twisted
left
out
in
the
garage
for decades like forever




from mickdean.net
 

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