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

A Truffle Hunt

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

The Dust

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

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