A crap misaim bottled of sable
colour wired together
in clop of blondish tuff
asking for dodo meat again outside
for old times sake an obsolete light
stills the silk jackets out in
Cookham melt brittle toenails to the sun
purlin in defect blat pril the sweet air,
wherein my joys are a chest pain
under the dropping floors
its satyr chorus of imperium
hard-ons this soil
is grace and favour like eaves
shaded long in a psychodrama
hell submissive loyal to
portfolio marquee screening
the kindred grandezza in
nacreous snail trail all popped
white-collar clubmen
moue in tandem toby jugged
ranine dinner speech
muzzle the coffers
mine hence not yours
