Vinyl wreaths.

When a editor checked in to see 

if the line break of eggs have been sold 

as seen how sad to see the day glow 

Floating and broken trancing embryos 

to make a fortune it might take one to 

Pick a peach like you out of the isle 

had you been left alone wrapped in clouds 

where you originally found i could’ve been 



for that lost generation rewired 

Into speak easy where smoke 

And mirrors stubbed out 

in all but name and cigars 

Arguing over the cutting of vinyl 



Wear a badge with pin see their 

World from the portabello road 

Of the war that tore family’s apart

And those empty glasses collecting 

dust around . 


There’s a farm that caught a name 

that will flood while you try to 

Solve those cold call equations. 


Three across are they mice 

orwell had teeth pulled out somewhere 

Below this sky.