Sunday, November 13, 2016

Robert Verdon, #356, sprawled waking

an old hessian sky stretches
over the beer garden city
knuckled buses rattle amid the saucer trees
under kedgeree rainbows each wet morning
gruel crowds lap at each shuttered restaurant
skyscrapers upright slabs of mouldy bread
against the endless blue distance
round the red vinous lake,
the glands of the city which never ache
while the brain tower looms
young athletes splash purposefully through mirrors
on their way to pointless work
the tram squeals and a squall gets off and on
while a young puppy relieves itself in fear
a slick photographer shoots it all
working for the local rag,
pretending to be homeless


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