Sunday, 3 May 2009


sweat and blood and converse
and cold conversation
There's cockroaches under the fridge
eating the limestone
Slabs to bits
Keep them away from me Burney

outside the weather is fine
so i kept laying on the grass
Blonde Australian Girls Hair
Burn'd wire the green grass brown
Get laid, get laid down

At sundown rolling in the hay
Australian Big mouth shouts out

I've had my hands burned too many times my retinas
shrank through worry
And threats of Rejection

Plain steel lectric
caustic bromide
sticky lesbian inducing
things from crumpet
cobblestone alley
sand Susan to
Elizabeth silver tongued Plath
I'm waiting till Wednesday
to sping the Easter
Affair trials outside in the fresh air

- the found work of an unknown poet, writing at Forest Cafe on an empty packet of plain steel guitar strings


Winnie said...

I don't own any trainers but converse are the closest I've got!

Anonymous said...

You're a very fine writer.