…

for whom it may

still unconcern

the milk has gone

the seasons turn

in on themselves

confusion rules

the sun is hats

& yet cagoules

hip hip replace

with no hooray

beyond the green

we face the grey

the post is late

the cuckoos say

– it’s aliens

or else sunday

the clocks still tock

& tickle on

her bristled chin

– perhaps a bomb

yet you don’t have

a fig to give

– a magic spoon

or kitchen sieve

( ? )

…

( author notes )

thanks to anyone that reads this tongue-in-cheek oddness. i lost seven subscribers in the space of 4 posts today & probably won’t be renewing my account next july. wordpress is dead a.f nowadays, proper tumbleweed stuff – so enjoy this bollox while you can, folks & may the gods the bless you