Effluents

 

The tide is nigh and the sea

is wasted, bottling the message with

the shrapnel of sirens' songs.

The graffiti reads of effigies and

spent laments to Barnacles,

the god of clinging on.

Pastoral Crisis

pastoralcrisis

there’s a pastoralcrisis behind the oldblackbull / to the

left of the rustingtroughs ablaze with daffs / to 

the right of scaffboardplanters and the head 

ache of chipfat / with a hawthorn back drop to a 

starlingdrama / the clatteringshed and haynes manual diarama / the missing stork up the tele 

pole / a lack of superfastupdates for outreached climategoals / to the front the cuckoospit and the 

roastingday / a weatheredfence punts two shirts / one denim / sleeveless / oilynicked with some

duffeighties metalpatch / one jermyn street / all pinstripepink and cuffed the colour of 

ducklinghatch / bellows of incomers fan the

sterlingkindling of nouveaubatch / there’s gags of 

landworkers / v / air bandb upstarts / there’s

scrumpypint bets / prescratched / going 

cheekandjowl with the rosetattoos for this 

decider / a late and baresummer knuckle match