Eight six five crackles
Hot charcoal stumps spit fire
Occasional scowls
Just about sums it all up
Must have slipped away last night
Ned occurs sporting
fish gourds.
Slinging hush,
wordbads too uggo
to stink out odious air,
being made
as I am of late
made over
anew of dun nomadic clingfilm,
with years odd spent
purging defiant biscuit wrappers,
one finds oneselves bleating
like a severed limb.
*
Lampadadampasanda.!
So the howl goes up.
Declination brooks invitation?
I scamper for the cringes.
Noises of adjustments echo…
A declaration will follow at
some given point heretoforwards
Grimbeau 