1.v.21
486
2.119
in just about May
a pinch and an almost punch
in almost May
the butcher bird
and a song of pipes in the rain
lie snug lifted stairs height
her blessing
a chat with the queen
to desk
we go through crowds
as if to dine
a squeeze
full of future young
and you my pet lamb
innocence raging
lives to love
then sleep was a proper country
we were to invent
from all the proper hunches
still April
all hours in the clock to bet
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.