Pooetry

A: Sleep of the Twenties And I find it hard to sleep Amongst the ruins of the week As my endeavours crumble And the floorboards creak B: Dear Green It’s a thick concrete dialect Of a slum sucker proxy Makeshift museum of perfectly preserved plastic waste It’s like a smell that you can taste

Ennui IV

No dream Nor slumber for the bitter slow Anger and hope Learned all by rote The undiscovered form Out of dust and time In the great and cold expanse of its own mind And like pointed teeth gleam Of a grey hope and rain Still the child crawled Unknowing Into the light of day