Soar, churlish repetiteur!
Day breaks like a condor's egg
Yolk running a sticky marathon
Craking upon the pavement
Where I poured your paraffin
High above the condor sores
(a joke running back to Xenophon)
Sores or soars, I want to know
Who stole my haunted telephone?
The one shaped like volcanic foam
its ghost wrapped up in cellophane
Tapping lines between the realms
That cultivate the weathervane
Where is all my underwear?
Howled the mute, Bellerophon
Taping lines between the cracks
Twixt cherubim and seraphin
What has happened to my face?
Where have all my features gone?
This is ultimate disgrace!
Nothing left to soldier on!
| Contributors: | Stacy, Brandt Miller, Gretta, Roland, DaveH, John, Peter, TG. |
| Poem finished: | 15th December 1996. |