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.