|
| |
The Enemy Incubates
They could be anywhere
Greased on my bus fare. Any Tom Dick or Jack and Solitaire
On every bit of bittie bit, on any drop of there.
They're everywhere in ambush
On every pull you push. Each panicked ceramic royal flush
Pirates hide, ride crazy-eyed, with itch-sticky triggers to crush.
And anything I breathe
Down the red throat of my sleeve. The miasma mere clean teeth can't cleave
Goes in out in out freaked out out, so every grin and weep's knot-weaved
And my besiegement
Unrelieved.
Copyright ©
James Brown
|
|