slums
globalfruitbat With slums in her teeth she sits
watching the passing crowd hoarding
the years.
Desperate under their coats
grasping the time as it flows
to the
Sea

Sex? The peons have their murmuring words,
their mumbling, muttering phrases, rife
with need and greed and desire,
spilling hope down the front of their shirts.
Eggy ties and off-white collars screaming nothing into the wind--
As red and wed as infants mouths.
040908
what's it to you?
who go
blather
from