Damp Short

31 Jul


Damp Short


Playing destitute

we turn suburban depression into the urban lack of time

our heads fill with dust

dipped, we get dusted on the pavement

waiting on a plus one like waiting for a lover to become familiar

each moment we know that each of us

has turned into the urchin in the background of the masterpiece

solemnly heading to the dank cellar of the private collector

to sit beside his prized wines

corked until momentarily born

waiting to be defenestrated by life

through the window of breath

like Curt von Bardeleben

free to be zombified by some new Nabokov


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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