Colin James
The moon floats
like a differentiation
over our garden wall.
Eleven alley cats croon.
Stocking cap or
a hat without a brim,
well tethered eleven.
Philanthropic Propensities For Injustice
The man at the bar seems to know me,
comments on the newsreel
projecting from my attached head screen
carried always 14 centimeters above noggin.
I smile down at him.
Everything is not fine culturally.
Some people still require subtitles.
What do you think earlobes are for?
Pull down gently on the left one, my right.
So as not to blatantly interfere,
fast forward through the subliminal messages.
Accusations were like aesthetics
before you arrived on the scene.
