In this car called history,
We can act up,
Wriggle about,
On the back seat,
Make a bit of noise,
Sing a song or two,
But we will not change,
Its' destination,
One,
Little,
Bit.
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Unreliable Narrator
This master-work of yours, This magnum opus, This poiema, Is sat in his underpants In a neglected and untidy flat, Typing on a laptop he bou...
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I find the cool channels between buildings where the wind finds flow, This breeze block, asphalt, concrete complex, Where the radiance of ...
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As children we learn Though the principle pain is palpable, Though the salt trails that mark our cheeks, long after the streams have dried, ...
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Sahara Stones You bought me beauty From the wasteland From the ashes of stars Star-born Carbon dates, And destinations, Deserted location...
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