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UNDERGROUND VOICES: POETRY
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LUCIUS ROFOCALE Dictator In my suicidal years suicide was my dictator she excreted herself on the knobs of door handles and cabinets even the openings of coke bottles warmed the nocturnal sabotage of my dreams luxuriating in the moon late afternoon shops chain-smokes phone, flowers even the warm fingertips and loose lips of assorted women. Sometimes if I chose swiftly and randomly enough brief peace could be found in cheap hotels … but soon she would find me and the rotten cobwebs became the brightest thing in the room. Lucius Rofocale was raised by wolves in the wilderness, but despite being ’rescued’ and indoctrinated as Homo-sapiens remains very feral. Lucius desires to attack cultural, social, religious and political Status Quo and have fun doing it. He can be reached at luciusrofocale@live.com |
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