Wait for it. Waaait for it. (toot)
It snows in Brooklyn
along the streets he walks
there’s nothing but the crunching
and the languid sound of his arse
Tag Archives: poetry
drinking and peopling – Rue B, October 16
This is a poem
of sorts
an attempt at providing context
and art
to a recording of a distant time
and place
while remaining true
to my desire
ah, fuck it
don't listen to me. 