Inky tentacles of
Bureaucracy
Isolate and destroy
...
Left to themselves
People fall apart
Left alone
...
Who is it that dances through the dawn
That plays the tambourine
That drinks and loves and
Lies abandoned?
...
When the body begins to bloom
Upon the rotting compost heap,
Slow decomposition of form.
...
With quill on parchment
Scratch to me your love
My love
...
Soft yearnings
And brooding mistakes.
Drop that sack of coal
...