Friday, 29 June 2012

Pollen Poetica


Pollens like pepper, travellers to sensors to cause brain explosions.
This morning was a winter stew of boiling clouds and herbal leaves.
The inside of a garden shed is all the aromatherapy we need.

Wood stainer, paints and preservatives
as airy motions whip up more updates
red lines across your TV picture
white letters proclaiming some new disaster
that isn't anything new there
being nothing new under the

sun squeaking through
the sinister leaves
and gone in a sneeze.


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