Thursday, September 21, 2006

The Return Of The Prodigal

Last night Poet Bruce
Rolled back into town
In a borrowed slouch hat
And hermaphrodite gown.

He ain't said very much,
In fact he won't talk at all.
He's just writing short poems
In chalk on the wall.

O Poet, why d'you look so tired?
O Poet, where've you been?
O Poet, who're you dancing with,
Miss Brown or just Miss Green?


Bobby said...

There's that good stuff.

It comes at a cost, don't it . . .

Bruce Hodder said...

Fuck yes. And I'm still not convinced that the cost is worth the result. But you persist because what else is there to do?

Bobby said...