Robert Knapman
-
Hooked
Don’t I know you?
You brushed me by
Then glanced away
MutedDon’t you know me?
I feigned a grin
And tripped myself
LaughingDidn’t we
Fuck
On that black panting street
Of swoll… -
Tim's Dreamer
It was the last sticky and compressed
Moisture soaking
Blessed day
Of the journey’s
Final legAnd Tim was horny for home
He was waiting
Drinking transit coffee
In a faded airport … -
Gold Leafed Feet
...his thoughts brushed an unexpected idea which seemed at odds, unfathomable…the notion of possibility…
-
Shhh
Laden as it were with words and worlds and wild wizened wisdom his eyes shot asteroids
