Exhausted by the dumping I stole away
aboard the Lardy Cake for far distant
shores of Nark, where bumble bees put their feet
up after a hard day’s humming &
talking twaddle is a hanging offence…
A giant slug,
six inches long,
Herefordshire resident;
Lettuce pray!
Yesterday
Afternoon
4.43pm GMT
I became old,
Unofficially
The dishwasher churns
I stretches
And gurns
As a string quartet
Explodes.
Moonday starkens
A passer by
Passer was
Exhilarated
By sex
Bowsprit of Hal’s flagship,
salvaged, warped & carved
from a limb
of a blasted, reformed
Medieval oak in Chippenham,
Lies in silt,
To be encountered by
us divers:
Pearlfishing.
Philandering
Through flounder shoals,
amongst the groundswell Lumpen Cray and basking catfish,
Till,
Low on air
we ascend,
cautious and bendless,
to the sky blue
Gingham canopy.
Slow and sexy
The tablecloth
Is outspread.
Faraway in Chippenham a sparrow rests
And a worm dines;
The tablecloth is the same gingham
It is just the angles that are different.
Three oaken leaves woven
for the fallen.
Here,
Hal’s bowsprit once looked down.
The sparrow ate the worm,
Knowing
A Pal would replace it:
Heroically.
Grimbeau 