you were a hat
half-cocked, jaunty
perched on the head of the sixties.
a mongrel guitar in the golden heat
jousting electric thunder
then autumn, the wind of change:
your brushed black velvet death
Rupert Loydell
you were a hat
half-cocked, jaunty
perched on the head of the sixties.
a mongrel guitar in the golden heat
jousting electric thunder
then autumn, the wind of change:
your brushed black velvet death
Rupert Loydell