you have but fed on the roses, and lain in the lillies of life Advertisements

  Morning, pummeling. Oscillating bowls              plump air. It is hard work forgetting. Morning, curling Cold warm medley. It is time again for travel. Smudge, dark blotting Throwing down blankets Morning’s child. The violin eases in The bulletin. Shaky puddles sped up Fields of dazzling frost. Still-mover.

  Morning, pummeling. Oscillating bowls              plump air. It is hard work forgetting. Morning, curling Cold warm medley. It is time again for travel. Smudge, dark blotting Throwing down blankets Morning’s child. The violin eases in The bulletin. Shaky puddles sped up Fields of dazzling frost. Still-mover.

Year by year, the monkey’s mask, reveals the monkey.

Faded jewel Discoloured star Lurking by the stool With the stringless guitar.

Here in the place Where the trodden on tred, The young soon are old, The lush,  raw and red. How nobody knows, How nothing is said. So pay for their punch, Bend to bite the blow, Travel by the heights And live by the lows. South of the river, It’s just how it goes. Posted […]