Spun inside a sperm whale. 

Once spun inside a sperm whale 

Called gruyere a season 

Spent tickling the rib stitched cage

carving historic thoughts 

On wishbones too be lodged 

Along with the tusk on 

the river bed waltzer 

A krill surfing on the Crust 

of a Wave 

the hermit’s say’s the company 

You keep of neutrality Grandiose 

Chanting meer men of 

There mortals coil 

Who let the powers

Goto the head and tails


As the mammal carccus caress 


Failing to find the eject Button 

On brow of beaten track. 

The shrink to fit boobies 

With Rubber booties

And stroll into the arms

Of grieve.