Nine iron

Eyes on the last days the first of a few days, a reprieve or reprise it’s still a surprise and we have to believe that what comes next will be good. I’d touch wood but the Amazon’s almost gone, taken by loggers who have flogged off the future touching plastic isn’t the same and I…

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When

I can’t decide have I lived or died trapped inside a plastic tent or bubble trouble is I never could, decide I mean other things seem matter of factly the cotton town munitions factory the day out at the local spa which was never far from her, the girl next door. but have I seen…

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The patterns on snowflakes

We have to knit one and pearl one, two bouncing babies, a boy and a girl one because we like to keep things neat. I used to be neat not a beatnik like Rik, who is immortalised yet again in the poem he should pay me. and who can blame me? I’m coming up short…

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all will be well

cross my fingers hope to fly before my heart stops, and I wonder why some birds have wings but prefer to walk? nothing to say and yet you talk must be something in the water. If I catch the dawn before it can break would you take me to your heart or sit there in…

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