Thursday, 17 April 2025

donkey rock

 donkey rock


it was the smell

the bloody animal of it

the donkey days of summer

walking to the end of life’s pier

the grit in the icecream

the warmth of soggy cornets 

chips that fingered the end

of days and days and

journeys home to the stars

with more grit closing eyes

ahhhhh’s longest breath

went on for ever and ever

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