Clogged Pipe Dream Poem by Luke J. Holt
Clogged Pipe Dream
on Tuesdays
the blue skin of sky braids the air with sun
green girls with red feathers from baggy buses inside come wreathed
their eyes primed to kiss fire and swell pores to pregnant raindrops
i scramble my brains before my eggs
and i read Keats before i eat
and i jerk off before i cough
for i was born for morn defeat
to mourn this clogged thus pipeless dream
turn on the news
and float downstream
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/16/2024 8:44:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
