Tag: September Song

Made in Heaven

The Dog goes to the old country as the old country goes to the dog

Swifts snatch sleep on camels armed to the teeth with lifelong bags

Something fungal diffuses the rotten air hanging on the wind

Modus Vivendi



The day turns


fifteen minutes

will he or will she not come?

I have  unlocked the door,

fetched out the crap,

brought in the milk.

It is very windy and

the sky threatens rain.

Things that deter unnecessary travel.

Four minutes to eleven.

Looks like a no show.

Make alternative arrangements.

Change tack.

Map out a new course.

A new modus vivendi.

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