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August, 2003

Fog Horn
Misty mind
I only swim when the water
Is shrinking cold

Pollution frozen
Bed clothes
Cling to me
Oil to skin
Sweaty,

black,


Dead moon
Strolls by moaning night

The polish almost revolution of 1750`s
Clangs across dollar pages
A dried marsh

Kill a bull for kindness
Eat the flesh of crumpled stars
Crime Incorporate Association
Eats a McDonald consciousness

Fabricated Bush Intelligence
Stalks the night
In search of whom?

Which organisation do you sing for?

Are you Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino?

Are you the Don Vito Cascio Ferro?




© 2003 by the respective poets