You brought a book into the bus

Untitled (You brought a book into the bus / January 13th)

I take the facing seat across

Just to watch you read

I feel my eyes tears full to burst

You bring me on your ship of hurt

I take the oar from the rack’s tray

Sugar and rust esteemed syrup

It’s me I have hair in my hay

I hold my fingers out in fright

The ship topples beneath the night

Sombre saplings sprouting in cups

Eyes red and foaming with rage

The blind pastor dives off the ledge

Inker burden-baited at bay

Cradles the drab uncoloured clay

Should tripe erupt with bundled blur

Drain dry mindclot troubled spoon stir

Trouble be gone ground into mist

I make my way by way of beast

Thrashing through ferns and flower pits

A rain pocket puddles away

My hands are dry as powder

2025