Red Blocks of soviet silver.

You know your about to die cast your hens eggs

When You find yourself on the late night 

confessional feed conveniently relocated.
Red blocks of soviet silver as a oxen is hastened 

by its warded connectivity As it busts stitches 

Time squaring the poetic licence that’s objectified

In its budgerigar chase’s of a hat.
with a brass knuckle lost under stacks and files 

Of a Walled Street rejection orders filed in the gutters.
As the emphasise on a news desk Low on wine calls time 

as the xlr star egos that undress to be eros 

capture themselves with lens.
Within touching distance of river bandstand 

overflowing  with a pre recorded musical hall

Weighty River resurrection.