Out of my brain at
Five fifteen
The dreaded words slide
Out:
‘Why not stick on the
Downton Abbey Finale?’
As soon
As they slipped from my mouth
A mighty echo
Expanded to explosion
And with a drawl portended
‘Surely, this Soap was
the
Soap
Of God’
End
Of Empire
greygray windlessness; car doors pound
indonesian summer supper
for the liberal party on the road
to greatwar to end all wars forever
hoseasoning homeward after crickets
over land and treeless villages
redsails on the lampshade sundown
silently through the porchway
eavesdropping evenings gentle snore
shopsoiled mad scuffed up
big pharma trends on tablet
mauve is the new grey
fluttering joggings, dry leaves,
silent violet slumber
elegance and decadence
septic tittering
Polly sipping gin through sock
mockery is old hat now
empathy is all the rage
Grimbeau 