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A violin howls,
and a stream of piss glitters in the moonlight.
Mr. Albrecht contemplates what phase the moon is in as he scratches his testicles
The tarmac bumps stick out like mountains through the gushes
as his foot taps on
the hot piss-slick pavement.
When I say hot I mean how the trumpet prickles
his skin like the humid Manhattan breeze.
When I say taps, I mean a piano is talking to him
through all this, but he doesn’t know how to answer
Georgie is a queer Mancunian poet exploring the intersections between modern poetry, music and community. Their favourite childhood memories include reading their future with with Girl Talk horoscopes, pitctochat, moonshoes, peach scented lipgloss (and lipsmacker!) You can find more of their work on instagram at @spenglerr or on https://georgieannebrooke.wixsite.com/website
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