Poem Hunter
(17 October 1938 / )


Us all sore cement was we.
Not warmed then with glares. Not glutting mush
under that pole the lightning's tied to.
No farrow-shit in milk to make us randy.
Us back in cool god-shit. We ate crisp.
We nosed up good rank in the tunnelled bush.
Us all fuckers then. And Big, huh? Tusked
the balls-biting dog and gutsed him wet.
Us shoved down the soft cement of rivers.
Us snored the earth hollow, filled farrow, grunted.
Never stopped growing. We sloughed, we soughed
and balked no weird till the high ridgebacks was us
with weight-buried hooves. Or bristly, with milk.
Us never knowed like slitting nor hose-biff then.
Nor the terrible sheet-cutting screams up ahead.
The burnt water kicking. This gone-already feeling
here in no place with our heads on upside down.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 20 votes ) 7

Comments (7)

Cows are better. Change my mind.
this is fheykyriyhiruii n hykfuf
bruh bruh BRRUUUUUUUUHHH bruh
Oi you hurt anymore of my people I'll do you in bruv. you got it bruv.
I'll you up you talk about pigs again mate.
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