fish and chips
a dusting of cornflower
waves
a sparrow stuffed
inside a sprout
followed by
grey blancmange
if you'll allow me
to break with tradition
I shall refuse
gratingly your offer of vittel
and demand quietly you
present your least worn
face
once in a while
if only to get the air
to it
once in a while
small movements
evoke the shadow of
chance
upon the auburn wall
small movements flicker
where pygmies shiver
apologies
and triumph comes ever
so slowly
repeating footfall
one sluggishly dragged
and dropped
ever downwards
downwards downwards
a cone on the head
worn like a crown
wake and forgive
what fresh idiom
strikes the blighted
hand
who waves at sand
who waves at sand
who stares seabound
and barefoot
and now we lift
like a new kite
handled in joy's cloud
and go up
and go up
up into the sky
where soaring on
vectors
the brave dismal scheme
unfolds
under cover of
impinging darkness
shadow of mule's visage
kicking and screaming
screaming and kicking
and all because
you wouldn't give him a
sugarlump
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