Self portrait of pinachi. 

It probably gathered its magic toungue 

And bided its thoughts whilst dreaming 

Under water Where i became a member 

of easy listening lectures on oil.


When no one else spoke for fear of breathing 

We broke sticks to draw our breath 

To make a brush and paint a self portrait of 



Thy Velum piles will not stretch themselves  

and the bones can’t can the buffalo meat

To express my wishes and kind regards.


You become the clothes not the previous occupant

To where them.


Through the holes I saw the sum total 

Of you moth eaten desires.