Jerome Fuseau Poems

Let's have another round, mate
Till closing time.
This ticking is teasing me
And my glass is already warm.
...

False times, don't you find, darling?
Just false times. Can't you hear it?
Maybe it is your blood pattering
slowly all around in your lean veins.
...

Sit next to me on the bed,
There is still a little vodka
But the tap will never run out of water.
Yes, there is such a mess.
...

Have you noticed, Brother
That even the roads are
Covered with thick green moss?
Even the needle is
...

The old man whose
Chin is tied up
Glares in his box.
The priest preached
...

Why, I, in this exquisite mixture
Of resolute loathing
And everyday fear,
Have no delight in conquer.
...

The Grim Reaper happened to be
A weary girl at the bar counter.
She asked for a cigarette.
I ordered her
...