there was once a leaden boot
That lined a old slate Miners vale
The Stacked cans Of peeling paint
leap frogs and Frothy Dogs
sprung from a cupboard with love.
blue striped and hearth felt romances
made in open baths under trees covered in tea lights
as scarabs that remind us of burnt spice book
spines Titled deserts of fallen gods.
As we ran out of excuses that fell from palms
That we brush our sleeves down with
As depths are charged in which cupped ears dwell.
As Hubble eyes look down at the Sites of the hades nexus
redrawn On meridian glass The Autobahn Bluakprinted
hands Over Layers of lost ancestoral chivalry.