The Japanese hats. 

Pursuing Japanese hats that couldn’t quite stretch 

to a whole haiku sandalwood seeds hidden beneath 

infilled In lets of red popping suntori bottle tops 

with teeth tugging on laid and buried cables 

Carried on the backs of Incommunicado ducks.

Formica tables Of squares the egg tapping blues 

into a age of rail roadies steam rising above 

harboured teapot makers dreams

of Hyottoko after hours imported Porters

And big band.