Litkicks Message Board Archive

hey here's

Posted to Action Poetry




somebody
over here calling
through
the smoke
of burnt up
lemon
skies
that is
manequin hot rods
twitching
because Tuesdayforgot
they're hungry
for something
that a gas
mask tommorrow
can't acidify or trade
the original freshness
for sad
and lonely
and purposeful
souls
high way of crowded
lights of bars
safety dance is found
among them