Grimbeau

got a november sunday
got a wind early when courtesy called to say

Old Cleobury snuffed itt
a month before his judgement day
when the oriental sun
sets swiftly in the west
and misere mes deus
rings out in vestibules and bleak boutiques
across a frenzied flame grilled chard
got a sad november sunday

Young Cleobury snuffed it yesters after vespers–best go light a twilight candle…Seems seven tried and fooled about too much for an epoch give or take an epic spurt & lurking back now slunked off in search of fresh fields trotting
taking picket nimbly skipping ugly tackles bypassing bucks playing futures by wild carding every given hand
sub contracting bridges to dubious firms of hoods
each sizing me up for the drop come elevenses stop hard rest into teeming psychospace occupied by humless stingers, causticbarbs.
proceed vaincautious over casting
suspect glances confirm contact was declined

spiralling down muchlike dizzy alice snatching selfies tuxedoed beside smiley vultures often congregate below
but soon part at the pace of plummet bumping on houmous spheres
before forgotten fear of falling said no pulling out this jaunt ain’t no easy ride consider boiling hot flesh melting under withered skin
losing conchshellnesss on glossy triptych
picturebook thumbsucker
rockaby snug terror
safe inder silkinesses
creamy green envelopment

slow to warm of late; outswung end of rope pressing offal swing bridge freeze framed close up nosehair gawp
accompanies point blank stare from vacant spaces

counted marbles three to one and looked elsewhere