Poems from the first week of August


I love the way you fold my underwear.

It shows a tenderness.

It’s a metaphor, I suspect,

for enormous and unwieldy concepts,

like love.


I live in the TV,

in TV land.

This is where all of us

hang out together

and shoot pool

on the set of CSI;

even the dead guy

joins in.


Sitting here

looking at David’s bum

at long last

I’m aware of how far

I’ve come and how

it’s only in Italy

that  you truly

know yourself.

4 August 2010
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