Marco Delrio

PoesiePoems › QuartineQuatrains

Grouts

Versione alternativa diAlternative version of «Muro»

The weekend crusts in marrowed grouts,
The wine fumes’re the man, now. Blurt.
Phlegm. A Christ. All’s crude ‘n soot and clout.
See him stumbling to benches o’ dirt.