Words that I saw written on an actual door.
The man made of clay,
and an armature skeleton,
whose arm fell off,
and a ramshackle of drunk
Laurel n’ Hardys
scramble
on the floor.
They say he’s Irish,
talks about Ireland.
Either Ireland or “an island” –
drinks like an unfamiliar dog.
A well-thumbed Bible,
thrown against the wall,
frantic and important,
the most often stolen book.
Said Matthew,
“why you keep [...]
Filed under: pete | Tagged: islanders, music | 3 Comments »
