The dogwatch

Skulls on the skyline and they’re saying prayers on the hill, I’m reading the ‘Rabbi of Lud’, absurd, but good. The jealousy hook will take them away, green with envy and many would say it’s an illness. The ants are in motion, spirals and warships make trace on the ocean pounding away, it’s an illness…

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Wanstead flats

Here and there twenty minutes is where I write. Sitting tight or standing light on my feet listening to the beat of the rhyme. And time doesn’t care If you’re there It knows that you will be one day. In the underground torpedo I go where the lines go and the lines seem to lead…

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