How Lovely Death

 

How Lovely Death

of course it’s been cold in
the snow’s newspaper is
it well stirring yes it wakes me

you know guess it his bed
out with the chimney a
pigeon’s that electric gleam

if given half my cheek I don’t
know you the children and that
problem I mean the magazine

a hard drive I can’t hear
you oh dear oh dear
his little beating insect armchair

was burnt down
like such a sharp knife
in the frozen earth

still no, not found
the landlady that
laundromat’s worth

a leather match the smoking pills
that clear end of the world
I am certainly not going

blind man as blind on my own
no the blonde around all day
always up to my penny

I suppose no typewriter
in the trunk when I retire
I’ll be one of those good books

tucked under passenger seats
the car’s not mine
behind you on the beach

woke up burning myself
no nothing had you everything
one train to have him time

most then goodbye