SAMO

A pin drops like a pungent odour
     scratching the city awake

From inside and out her run men
     intent on bleedin’ somethin’

That tastes less substantial when packed in
     ice and freighted overnight

Thoughts delivered in formation fight
     lightbreak’s crippling humidew

And make off sweating out bright little
     sayings; aphorisms braided

Into fit-all Asian silk kimonos
     worn over worn-out credos

One size unfit to summarize it
     rips apart into lost art

Fragments; tablets swallowed by handfuls
     of sandstorms where the unborn

Feed on such ignorance when needed
     obediently sleeping

Overground until their wounds open
     wide, ready to believe it.