Monday, March 10, 2014

Till Gwinn- A Poem


            I drag cigarettes like machine guns smoke air
with empty cartridges leading lead to fillings
sacks of water, blood, sugar, sunlight—
a shape seen from beneath, gleaned from reflection
off the water-gasoline sheen—succumbing to the
twisted oily nature now known as “human nature”. 

1 comment:

  1. I think I photographed this guy while he was working on a curb in Portland. He's a striking fellow.