Doctors in white coats
Clutch bloody knives,
Their time for smiling
Having passed.
Men in suits are out
In force as well,
Their primary purpose
To prostitute the air.
Many in the restaurant
Cling to seitan stew
And burdock root.
Somewhere a train whistle
In a city without tracks.
Even the rats put down
Their glasses and
Cup their ears to hear.
Download a pdf of all poems to date: Poems