Sunday, November 18, 2012


All love is careless
bleating sadly into some thing or other or
mainlining its way into varicose

The millionaires of summer
swelter away in Old Montreal
delve deep into marry me’s

I’m scared all the way
down the skill hull
it’s always a point of almost-pride

No setting to this poem
but your mind’s alright
and the pediatricians are sleeping
so just skulk softly

1 comment:

sandra said...

I like it J-P. Varicose and comatose. I like no setting gem in rough.