water straight from the tap
two day old bread
and salty soup
they come 'round here
offering
we have something for you
quick before it's all gone
you know there are more hungry than you
look at all these books
piled to the ceiling
sell them all and buy yourself some shoes
I'd rather wander barefoot in the rain
than give up a single word
each letter has more worth
than a heap of right opinions
each author a better friend
than a wringing religious hand
held out if you only believe
what we believe
I eat stale biscuits
the milk long gone
but still I am not alone
each word, each syllable
a stronger gateway to heaven
than any clammy outstretched appendage
crossing itself
with a backhanded weak smile
it's purveyor
