Image for the poem cortina


Pest ...the rats nest and the dogs rest you,
    the take  
 with your boots worn ledgered and tight.  
Ankle sawn, ripped down to the bud  
of a hare's view,  of hounds in their night mare.
 Hungers drugged in pot'skin boiling soothing stew...  
We clear the woods...the fields are nought haugh  
the draining ditches are clean and free  
out from the noon and peacocks 'sun
(in from the cunt of the moon, a whole white calf
.. half life/death, a quarter of nail light
in hungover views)  
the frail spring sun has pale comparison  
in  apple green  
council estates  
we cling to the hedges and  cliffs  
may-friend renew their roofs in paw ellubiance of moss
   on a black foxes back.  
We have no heather for sport.  
   nor long leather arms  
or foresight when it is cold.
Written by fields_broke
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badmalthus DanielChristensen cold_fusion
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