Saturday, 1 January 2011

The lonely boy on the box





Tit for tat, the front is back
Assassin ate        I am a coffin in a doorway
Your fingers are sticky with catnip, lucky
It’s lucky to be lucky – do you feel, lucky?
                    I am a baa baa
                                     In the sheep pen on a black hill
The black sky and the black arms of God
                                    seal windows in the sky
You forgive me/forgive me                            I am a dust cloud
A mouthful of dreams
                                    waking up in the wonderland
                                                                     I cut open a mosquito
A music box of diamond-encrusted sound
I put a knife into a keyboard
It bled thick black notes, and the whitest tears
                           Passive – aggressive – the lonely boy on the box
What’s in the box?
                           It’s only half of her
                           The other half is in the sink, or something
You lost your way home on the way to Tipperary
                              Singing all the white girls are turning red
                              Singing all the black girls are black tanks




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