03/01/11
04/01/11
'Metapoem'
There was a time
when words came thick
and fast,
tumbling from my pen
like European fruit-pickers
with expired work visas
tumble from Kombi vans
when the Department comes knocking.
Now they are beligerant,
grudingly giving up a haiku perhaps,
but glowering
and sulking if I ask
for anything more.
05/01/11
haiku
My beautiful child,
a simple wish for you now:
won't you bloody sleep?
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