the secaidas are ramblin’ I’m scramblin’ to poemdirt under my nailsweeding never failsto break my backtomorrow whenI wake, my boneswill quake, for ballssake but when I lookupon the yard, I’llsee my hard labourand savour the scene WANNA HEAR THE HOWL INTERVIEW? HERE YOU GO! CLICK HERE! THANK AGAIN, VALENTINO!!!
Tag: green
Poem 260 – The Colour Green
The Colour Green ( for Jett) a witch’s face – smilingvomit violently releasing infectionalgae attached to plastic lining co-dependent her pupils in the morning Peas. All. The. Peas. Rolled on tonguespopped between enamel mantis praying on the railing reeling at cicada jogging pants with puffed out knee graves – stained the sky in nap dreams
VANESSA SHIELDS 