The Lie of the Land
Half man: half musket
Was not was
Noisome
Stroke me branches crest the lawn,
Attracting glances beside
the splendiferous alpine experience.
A dog cocks its leg on the ugly plastic herb cover.
The tiger glows under the daffodil.
Aphids pester gannets
Thrashing in mild dark.
Slow is what it is.
The cream is questionable,
but I have no fear
cautiously prizing the lid
finding caramel and semen.
The red rubber band
on the pastry
turned blue in the freezer.
I leave the door open
to help it find room temperature.
Grimbeau 