Other poles shifted
30 October 2015

The days hurried by
Grey repetition of beats
But for three red spots
I loved poppy fields
Often most when they touched skies
In red-blue embrace
A rabbit scurried
He bestowed me some nonsense
From bottled malice

The Earth spun around
Sun’s glorious stray dances
While I composed soul

The nightingale whirled
All wheels flew out of axis
Camp descent painful
A tadpole blinked twice
Its tongue caught a fly’s motion
Other poles shifted
I took crimson walk
Between yellow lines but fell
Forgotten in hay
