Issue
 #29 

January
2014


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a poem by Brenton Booth

ESCAPE FROM SYDNEY

sweating out razors while grey clouds weep in
the sky drumming against the roof of my building
like a well rehearsed marching band on a tuesday
morning laying in bed with no need of fame or
money or women or making everything right --
sense doesn't even concern me this morning
for the lives and concerns of the so called
sensible always look like nonsense to me --
listening to the march continue on outside
with no need now to participate.

© by Brenton Booth

 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #29 ~ January 2014