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Musings from the mouth that stutters 25 Feb 2010
.. ..
.. ..
The clicking hands,
that blunt blades ride,
pick the marrow out
of what’s left inside
-of broken computers,
the back-logged taste,
honey-in-a-pinecone,
white collar waste.
.. ..
Well outside of
caged in shops.
Well below
the abandoned lofts.
Well away
from voyager miles,
exquisite stitching
and winning smiles.
.. ..
‘top cardboard beds
In worn through socks,
and pavement lungs
with loaded coughs
and crawling sweat-
that crawls through beds
that crawls around arms
that crawls through heads.
.. ..
From an old white beard
in a bedside gutter,
come musings from
the mouth that stutters.
-and an ancient voice
telling day-old stories,
mistakes evening’s deal
for quick stop glories.
.. ..
Night’s curtains draw closed
and strange stray dogs arrive on queue
but there is no blood and fat,
under the devils hat
so they keep on walking
right on through.
-Theokyo
