Monday, September 29, 2008
Poetry From A Forgotten Avenue Comments
Rating: ★0.0
Every night I leave the sad hotel
Where the tourists all are snoring;
Bellies stuffed with buttered lobsters,
Toddlers curled on the bulbous laps
...
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7/29/2025 11:23:07 AM # 1.0.0
One line can sustain me. I will survive tomorrow on 'I should awaken, drooling upon the stony lip of my reflection' and a line from Loudon Wainwright III which I hear over and over again in my mind.