Poems are alive

yet often vermin

& sleep deprived

all toss & turnin'.





Poems are good friends

of most knaves & thought-trains

yet naturally wary of focus,

plus understandably partial

to mystery parcels

& how they love munchin' on locust.





Poems are the sounds of the bastard hills,

poems are a lovely monkey

in a dream,

most poems shoplift

but only from the big stores

safe in the knowledge

that they'll outlive the Queen

...