Richard Wink

Kizza Me

Bare feet

warm black sand

vile delirium tremens

The aubade burns

streets disproved.

A plain Jane saunters


engulfed in Bermuda smog


Unable to talk because sunlight

doesn’t operate underneath his

refulgent nostrils.

The Prince, a manipulator who

himself was a burden to the house

that raised him

picking up perplexed fairies

who showed a bit of leg

before they sniffed stardust

though you couldn’t see the

magic until you parked your

wallet and opened your

misshapen ardor.

She sensed opportunity, you

were obedient. She

could recreate something

fanciful on the budget

of a shoe string

Richard Wink © 2009

During the Recession

The empty guitar case collects coins

its quarter to noon

and there is no marble sky.

Above the bust of a queen

swings on a sign.

A dog on some string


near the harmonica bearing man

who got so drunk last night,

his tongue is scarred by teeth marks.


Father, son and preacher

blazing clicks of high heels

on the pavement

met with fiery eyes

sordid and graceless.

Ungrateful for the loose change

misery justified.