29 July 2025
2 August 2025
hmm…
tipped from a wheelbarrow of sleep
into a playground of colour and shapes
(none hurt, not that they were soft, they
were not defined when it came to the body’s
intersecting with them) there was a faint
tinnitus in the head (as though the sea
was rising but it was not glue) and
spare sparks outside the ears explored
what could not be felt by hand or foot
or mouth – a trickle of electric luck
lurked…and prompted one to think:
the colours and the shapes composed
a thought and that was all it was in all
its parody of sense and sequence, time
and all its innuendos, excommunicado
the thought was and easily abandoned
as most thoughts are when better ones
are the next experience into which we’re neatly
tipped