anon: distillation (13/12/21)

days become staleair becomes stilledall but abandoned, too empty to fill… © 2021 robert greig

anon: boogie (9/12/21)

if I dance upon your graveplease don’t be dismayed,blame it on the boogie…… © 2021 robert greig

anon: hundreds of feet (5/12/21)

the leaves were first stripped from their trees,then bundled into piles into untidy cornersthen kicked and trampled by hundreds of …

anon: or do I (3/12/21)

I remember when,or do I?perhaps it’s all confabulation… © 2021 robert greig

anon: honeybee (19/11/21)

a surfeit of beessinging for their supper,could it be honey, I wonder… © 2021 robert greig

anon: one (17/11/21)

once again the buzzardwhat does night taste like?picking off piano notes one by one… © 2021 robert greig