Chickens on a spit held by supports emerging out of twin vortexes roasting over a stylised fire. Why? No idea, I’m afraid. Advertisements
Don’t touch the flag Kicking moon dust In faces Is Not On! Look frequently towards The earth Admire the sun With protection Of course Reflect Inwards and out No cheese jokes Ok, that’s not mandatory The only holes Are in the plot.
Look at that patch there Just a little thicker A touch more velvety Swirling slightly In the backdraft from the Swinging bedroom door. Switch on the light And it retreats, Like the rest of the darkness Like any of us Eyes abused by sudden…