Heavy Flocking

I rose from the deep
to the sound of no clock
Rather an exodus of sheep
a heavy wool flock
and the bugle calamity
of personal vitality

With hay in a hoe
I lept to the tap and had a great slurp
and washed my sweet face with not even the burp
and squared myself down
on the throne of ejection, dereliction,
the throne of reflection and contemplation,
a kingdom of self-absorption
With a co-task of great emission

After a walk through no beaches of Peake
I look to the fire
Squinting the eyes to see it more clear
refracting the light
through the cracking
in soggy eyelashes
What a blossoming blurbing blur
that’s nice that’s for sure

What a dainty dand time
when there is here just to be
and here with my time
I suffer you know
in my hands, and my feet,
my throat, and my knees,
my mind, and my spirit
all a ghastly goat show

Yet life breezes
when lent to the sneezes

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