Through Autumn trees
like rusted pinheads
we roll
on glitter cider swells,
from the trough -
the amlosgfa,
where cocaine carcasses
take us to tables
of the saints.
Hellish hounds shall cower
at sincere hearts,
amlosgfa crematoria
flames turn sober
the madman that is Death...
@Steven Francis poems 2009
About Me
- Steven Francis
- I started writing in school and discovered it was the only thing that could hold my interest (apart from sex). I knew from the lump inside me that some creative channel had to be my direction. And be good or bad it is some kind of legacy.
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