Short Stories, Essays, Poetry, Journalism.

On Trepanning

What better way to open a mind,
than drilling through the skull?

The fool humours the surgeon, whose hand hovers
And a red-soaked countess poses with a pigeon.
George stands above John, cold iron in his fingers,
hammer poised.
In Russia, graves emit echoes
of metal on bone.

Toddle through the forest
Gum the thick-juithed fruit
Lick evy butter-yellow brush
Thpeak truth in unfoamed words, before fogotten
Go back, to when boring minds were most bright.

« »

Spam prevention powered by Akismet