Such a hot afternoon. It could have been a Wednesday, or a Friday, but not a Sunday. Sitting on the driveway, brake parts scattered around me. And then the sound. POM POM POM POM… I remember this sound, I know what it is. POM POM POM POM… I close my eyes. I am not listening…Continue reading “Classic Poetry – Huey”
Tag Archives: Poetry
Classic Poetry – The Old Army Officer
There were two flies fucking in mid-air. That requires wings, Alex thought. Most men never receive their wings—they never fly above things. Those who do learn to sleep in the wind— because they’re too afraid to touch back down again. Nursing home food reminded him of K-rations. There was nothing glamourous about dying in theContinue reading “Classic Poetry – The Old Army Officer”
The Classic Machines 