The boiling blackcurrant’s sipped; thrown.
“Avast!” the axe-fall blade, abrupt, demanded death-industrial: it called, it falled, found its fortune to be laid upon the wharfway stone.
The past: t’was present, as the present: t’was pushed passed. The world: t’was floating ‘midst the passing future.
Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…
A water flower.
Crocodiles hold union on the marsh.
Upon the breeze, life’s sounds did sail; the people pottered past.
As with those others, I’ll not help you.
Unpetalled, blank papyrus.
Brick bears beams bear rooftiles.
The stained-glass panes, that stretched to reach the heavens, shone.