I didn't think she'd write in the front room, coffee frosting from her,
Thus making the glorious sun a common defence,
Under the impression that the males in my family told them she leaped back from it.
Deeply Katy threw her work to disapproval and confronted banality
They aren't nice people casting off into images comprising their way:
She may not escape. My cacti piling up, paying electricity to make big beef curry.
Compare the use the countryside.
Their post-modern world hides structures in their expectations of trees and falling,
Her typically bold narrative grounded in due course.
Critical where it fits better, you call your beautiful mother accomplice to a date
Listing the tired, stressed, most delicate rustles of the media
If you could be a headache and not bother taking off the old daylight.
© Gerald England
Composed: Gee Cross, 3rd November 1993
2004 ZYX (USA)
Flowers at Fleetwood
2 months ago