Saturday, 14 March 2009

Sheep poem

This drystone wall, inedible;
Dwarf trees, their petrified tentacles, inedible;
This sky, inedible;
Soil, colour of blood-pudding, inedible;
Fossil-dung pebbles, inedible;
This wind, inedible; hailstones, inedible;
Night, inedible.
Thought, inedible.

This turf,
strands like the flames of a wide, low fire:

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