The Poems of Cyril Hurk
I saw language transgressing into images
And I melted into androgyny. I am my knees.
And they are sweet. See me following the
Lonesome cat down the speedwell alley way.
We meet where milk is left. I have my followers.
Mayhap. I lap up words, and lick my lips. Ignatz
Hurls a brick at my innocent neck. Am I yet alive?
I survive by stealth and invention and listening
To the irregular rhythm of my wayward heart.