Black Looks

  • Tongues of Clout (for Geoffrey Philp)

    Posted: November 14, 2009, 10:38 pm by Rethabile
    These images our sleep has given to the poets. Images the mouth turns round and spits out, clean as pits sucked off, the raw tongue finding the texture awright. Poets are always talkin’ about heaven, the pain of the four seasons, countless lucky stars at night, winking; some poets write even hell though none can pave the way back: what happens when a child loses its soul, [...]
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Blah blah blah

Fish cakes

Alas a fish cake.

Yet more fish cakes

Guess what ... yeah ... fish cakes.

The end of the fish cakes

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