Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,
some are my own and some of them not.
You can like one, or quite like them all,
or simply not like them a hell of a lot.
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
Swimming to Work on My Bicycle.
The water hits like a wave. Slapping
me about with closed fists,
a proper beating. I
wend away while
my head now
drenched. A drowned
rat, caught splat, slap
in the middle of a blind storm.
the reverend jack ralph
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swimming to work on my bicycle
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