…
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
…









