Poems

Damian Balassone: Four Poems

Larkin was a Larrikin Larkin was a larrikin; Larkin was a toad. He liked to take his lady friends to Cemetery Road and share a pot of English tea, way back in nineteen sixty-three. Larkin was a larrikin; Larkin was a hoot. He boogied with librarians behind the library chute. He shimmied like a giant squid, he did not mean to, but he did.       On Bail in Bali I’m on bail in Bali. I’m waiting for my trial. I’m cruising on a Harley across the tropic isle. I’m on my way to Kuta Beach to practice what…

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