three poems


after the accident

carries a welcome note
for him

his father will die
his mother will be no more
but he will still
be subscribed to
the magazine, Life

all his
schizophrenic hours
will have some breadcrumbs

that are

to be ripped
by some street dogs

but will be munched
only by the lusty darkness


being out of sorts

can't go to mountains
these days

lucky enough
to see the vast ceramic

listening to the songs
of the guilty

as vulnerable
as innocence

only forgetting
to take medicine

a glorious defeat indeed


below the horizon

the weather's
a bit slow today

a bit below par

running temperature
through woods
over mountains
into caves

the weather's
a bit slow today

a revolution should come
to lift the horizontal dead body

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