Page 7 - Contrast1971Fall
P. 7
TO A SUICIDE
Glassy-eyed statue, speak to me son --
what made you blowout your brains with a gun?
I know things are tough,
but that tough? Oh well,
how can I realize what was your hell.
Summary:
young and old
when life's a bear
take their leave
of human err.
JOHN THORTON
POINTLESS POME #1
Little hairy on my arm,
product of my arm's hair farm,
growing from a molev brown
long and black and laying down --
conficentially, trig's a bore.
A lost world of breath
is a bubble in the sea,
struggling to get home.
JOHN THORTON
