30 July 2004
words’ worth
get down you bastards get off me down down dogs ants all over me chainsaw roaring cough scream run scrape ’em off fucking words words words get off me you’re hurting me bastards stop i-i-i-i-i-t!
and when they did
they lined up nice all cherry red in serried ranks then in single file marched
as I directed down to the quay
and boarded a boat to wend over
the wine white sea