Friday 20 July 2018

up nobody has (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)

          is cylindric 
        to estranged
on the 
whole thing 
for good 
    the mud flats,
when traded 
       with living blood
in labour like 
 the souks 
you in hatred 
     so they slide 
up nobody has 
this plain as day,
not waning and why 
we move 
 those who 
   did not 
to music is 
    rustic meal 
now you 
     at the back, the 
pot of 
    the same food,
 the inverted milk 
     snuff from 
the roses and 
we a plate 
      of victuals 
that would 
   still have 
no discipline, 
  all that 
    has gone before us
       has to  do with
 table manners