Sphincter the catnip died in nineteen sixty-nine what was the other one called? Ernie the Mouser he died too the myths play at will you grow attached with glue crustaceans of rock limpet, mollusc, squid theodolite, arbitrage scuttling about the old gaffe seeking a whale of a time licking up spilt milk not worth crying over now baby blue
French polish windows,
Pathetique ripples tickle
sweetening even air,
far off a yelp, a rustle of
rushing crinoline,
a dalliance commences,
to conclude by glow worm light come dusk,
entangled in briar on damp mosses
under elephant sized zucchini.
~
Alternatively, welsh rarebit
on toasted brioche
with chives and wildebeest,
served with lashings of green tea and
Pontefract binlids, while
galoshing through seas of watercress
and camphorated hankies.
Crack! Crushed a sequin
Silver sequin embedded
Moonlight blue table cloth
Blew a dream to smithereens
Heavy handed oafish clot
Butterflies crushed on cartwheels
Like Wilfred Hyde Whyte
With a sledgehammer
Rain is in the air
Harpsichordal fugue
Will it or won’t it
Joni light an open fire
There’s a nasty chesty cough
Pneumoconios is it
Blue black scar tissue
Dirty fingernails
Bathful of coaldust
Red carbolic soap
Flat as a pancake
Spider hanging by a thread
Slew an open fire
Red double dragon struggles
Tying up laces
spittoon Sospan fach
Grimbeau 