|
Among the wild boys grows |
|
A flower of contempt |
|
They trample with silver boots |
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They lick with green tongues |
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There is no relief among the wild boys |
|
There is no cooling off |
|
Except on summer's cool rocks |
|
At night, out by the river |
|
The wild boys feed |
|
On the greyroom's nectar |
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On sperm and oranges |
|
Peels lie scattered |
|
All over the city streets |
|
The wild boys hide |
|
In veiled, damp tenement rooms |
|
They sit naked on the cement floor |
|
In the ashes of Vondrel Park |
|
In the dirt of empty places |
|
Where you lie exhausted, drained |
|
The wild boys will nurse you |
|
With spit and with dust |
|
And with sweat |
|
And with heat |
|
With bones |
