the woodwork mirror an ill-bred design, assembled from comprehensive impatience: awkward geometry, and timber bruises of a badly managed sanding machine. triple angled plinth,
a strand i need a coastline, need to be able to hullabaloo, from the green land, to where the lapping fold of the water comes, hurrying ashore like a wild eyed refugee. lingering,
overbite they sent you out on the bus, to fetch a fluorescent tube. they’d paid for it over the phone, so they didn’t have to trust you with petty cash. they didn’t know
lesson of the birds (part ii) i watch two sparrows, sparring over the dog end of a pasty, grabbing with heads bent low. flapping over ground, the victor makes it to the safety,
