clocks |
CLOCKSHark, the herald angelssing like drains.Some shit songaboutloveandlifeanddecay.And I'm tattooingtears onto my thin cheekwith a bent badge pinand a bottle of Indian ink.Time moves like a manfalli...
Posted by THE FUG on Fri, 09 May 2008 07:11:00 PST |
glass blowers |
GLASS BLOWERSStripped tothe boot-strapsin the loungeat lunch time.Puffing.Panting.Gurning likeglass blowers.Glued toa galaxyofperspration.Deconstructingdirty verbs.Fuckingon thereproductionfurniture....
Posted by THE FUG on Thu, 14 Feb 2008 04:10:00 PST |
ghosts |
GHOSTSThe thunderofpony pissthat is my half naked fatheremptying himselfintothe toilet bowlat two am.I blinkatmy roomas the blackness unfoldsbuckled toys,blunted books,fingerlessaction figures.I blink...
Posted by THE FUG on Sat, 09 Feb 2008 11:58:00 PST |
good arrows |
GOOD ARROWSStepping outthroughmajestic drapes,throughthe metaphysical hazeof lager and cigs,throttling a B&Hbetween sausage digits;the pub mystic.Jaculatorof pointyreckonings;number-knitterof the ...
Posted by THE FUG on Fri, 01 Feb 2008 01:34:00 PST |
your father sleeps now |
YOUR FATHER SLEEPS NOWYour father sleepswith a hammerunder the pillow.Go quietly.Soft heels,strong heart.Outthrough the window,and over the wall.Offacross fieldsand into the night.To the landwhere the...
Posted by THE FUG on Fri, 01 Feb 2008 01:31:00 PST |
