Old Thespiano.

flaming hats representing 

obsolete Realism of its tuppenced birth 

The exchanged context that lays Scattered across 

the tiled floor littered With the Wreaths 

made with of libertied pamphlets 

The dream of rewrapping and rolling well flogged gum.
Over the cables and past the sty 

forget me not forgers amongst picket line

Forraging in Ponds for newt and ton Of invisible men 

on Solarised work bench Slapping backs braced 

mobiles above children’s Nightlight eyes.
The grand leaving sweethearts as signs 

Too its Pact with pillared objectivity 

To the right of privacy as curtains are pulled

As paper flowers Inked tears held within skin.
Lemon Stool Gulls enabled to land on 

promenade a Photographic core 

of its complex sin and tinflection.
Pull a man farthing from the Buick 

Stamped out truth lies down 

Thespiano of a twitching morality.

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