‘In the French style’

Seberg (mon amour) from the Novel by Shaw, flawless direction by Parrish rich and my heart once vaguely unruly becomes lawless meet me down in Montmartre let us sip absinthe and talk…

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Up yours

    They said, ‘dress to impress’ so I dressed as Admiral Yamamoto to go to the party…

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Natural treasures

Not arrows that fly towards the nesting of day but swallows on the wing as Summer fades, I play with the imagery as each arrow moves South and away from me every point changes then to be changed back to.. when did you see such as this? and the archer? who can say, who is it that…

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Seeding clouds

Predicting the unpredictable, that’s not on the timetable, dressed up to the nines at sixes and sevens when Siouxie’s with the banshees and screeching in my ears. it takes me back to punk rock smoking barrels and the lock stock, crocodiles and tears they cry, I spy but nothing much. Stripping down the skyline revealing…

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