~
shrouded in miscellany ( all these poems should called this really, sorry … )
…
there speaks the voice of raisin
but not the voice of reason
those novelists have lost the plot
as woods scheme acts of treason
your face is in the basin
some stephens are uneven
yon martians in the garden &
in the attic - a demon
yes brass bands they are brazen
as spring's a bouncy season
king arthur sleeps neath avalon
& mum has gone to sweden
trust not ravens or masons
some fiery pyres are beacons
fog's often fog yet dogs are dogs
your fruit is bruised not beaten
...