For some unknown reason I've had a very creative morning. I did have a few problems with the printer though; but I've got enough copies to send out to the magazines when I find some new addresses.
AUTUMN LEAVES AND NEVER COMES BACK
We live in hunched up houses
And tend allotment sheds
Bought in flat-packed suburbs.
Our cabbage leaves have holes in them,
Our dreams are gray and miserable
- Dogs skulk down an allied shabbiness
And even the buddleias are rusty now.
OBLIQUE ANGLE
The verb encourages sleep
The nerve is kick
The future imperfect,
Is a cabinet of blazing poets
In the town where there's
Only one street.
LIFE SPITS SOMETHING OUT
Raise your glasses!
Somewhere a poet conceives;
In every room of the casino -
A pack of cards blowing in the wind.
