blue labour

                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

any word     could go     hereabouts
in its right     place     everything
fowls     the bright morn     greens

you will foot     this war     we plan
to be seen     to plan you     for
the enemy     shots     mow the

meadows     the cuckoo     calls
drones     to the hearth     an owl
slips noiseless     across     our

oral past     long sentence     cut
to fit     the postcard     obscenic
the strand land     mcgill     quicks

cook     ready brexit     the peeling
skin     smell of bacon     licks
the dunes     the kid     nestles

 

 

 

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Keith Jebb

 

 

 

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