…

sing a song of cobwebs

odd is a sod

      silly sausage sunrise

      sixty seven starlings

tea lights dancing

while the pen is puzzled

      like the p in ptarmigan

      silent like an anus

in the depths of space

still the gas gasps

      parping on mute

      muddles of a morn’s

moonbeam aftermath

how now, missus cow?

      too soon for beans

      or potato waffles

intermissions winter

still quills spring

      all is an autumn

      summer dyed her ginger pubes

do you do agadoo

every other tuesday?

      is there an echo?

      cripes, i bloody hope so

…