Leaving The City ~ Bob Kesh

The moon’s in Saigon now.
Clouds blow by us like
dust in wind,
& we drank fog through dragons teeth,
the city looks like mold under the hills,
& I see the guts of dogs
stretched across highways,
I hear the shriek of trapped birds,
& the lights lean like knives
on the windshields
of so many
trying to find god. . .
the moon’s a’ gone now.


A writer and musician from London currently studying at the Faber Academy. Generally nocturnal, he can be found indulging in all the pleasures and pains of the night.

Contact him at bobkesh @ hotmail . co .uk (with no spaces)

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