Tuesday, February 11, 2014


The demons are fearful
Of close scrutiny
Of shambolic light
Of chamomile tea.
The demons dread
A kind word
An hour unmolested
The Blue Mask
By Lou Reed.
The demons poke
They stretch skin
Disfigure memory
Invent tragedy.
The demons harvest
They locate crimes
Instigating trials.
I hate the demons.
I hate their tails.
I hate their eyes.
But they are
The ones
With the typewriter
So I never raise
The rent.

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