Monday, 28 January 2008

Mojo Intactus

Dragging octogenarian priapism
Through rustling skirts of grass
He chatters with stilted birds,
Their eyes like marbles,
As they crawl and scratch
At tracks worn into the wet sand
By trailing, distended, sparkling testicles.
Animals come, speaking human tongues
Too fast to be understood,
And invent music to play on eggshells.

after seeing Desmond Morris' birthday exhibition

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