Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The great trinkets of the naughty
Are cocked
The forefinger flush
Against the curve of metal

The odor of oil
That great lubricant
Reeks from the long hard thing
Poised to poke holes
In the papers of the world

The world ! ?!?
What a GREAT abstraction!!!
“great” ?
A stupid overused little adjective
A bullet of brute
Language

And why are we here
(this is not a non sequitur)
Looking furtively
Between the slats of blinds?

The sunlight fires its oblique rays
To the far corners of the room
A child sleeps in the dark
The bars of light paint
Her arm, her shoulder
Gold
It reminds me of an ancient
sarcophagus

Yes, that's true.

I like this poem, irish.