This Planet Is a Grave

This planet is a grave.
The inveigled day a wrinkled band-aid
which, after a few bruised hours,

rubs off the wild strawberry patch
of your wound,
fading beneath the green
foam of the surf.

What’s there to realize, Milton? The surface
of Hell is a sizzling cunt and cold
to the brittle touch.

 
1
Kudos
 
1
Kudos

Now read this

FAMOUS POET after Ted Hughes

The day my book of poems set to print, the entire world bought a red pack of Marlboros or put on their favorite black lipstick. Some might have kissed their wives. Then climbed into a hole without the dog, a couple machines, a few... Continue →