Two Poemsexperiment 4: the good ones
sit ion the bench,
thinki home but so wrong
lost in the vidsgrow me
another one. gettem good
n sexlaced, grown up in pink
black cords writhe
the fifteen minutes daze.
so tell me, didjagettum
groaning guts? the
Sunday morning massacres?
post-office scares? the
howling ice? she
dives into thebed
and the blows away
all remorse of
tomorrowahead.
„Gospel”
WHO tell youthe Lawd
is coming?
Child,
I been hiigh and I
seen mountains,
fields
that’s like quilts.
I
seen the
ocean
in the middle of the earth.
Ain’t nobody
in them
clouds ’cept
a
hundred
metal birds.