electric soup
Where you like, who you like
Curtains for a pound
The cats are all askew
A man with a blue plastic bag on his head
Striding to the end
.
In the shop, men buy cans of electric soup
Pull the plug now
Fire was enough
There’s no west of the west
The globe is a little thought
Electricity, rubbed amber
Compete with the sun and the gods devour us
Simple taste and everything will delight you
No four-dimensional ankle
Another day in Babel
What is darkness
The flying birds sleep on the wing
Pleading with the machine to train Golem on the gospels
Pavan for a dead order
More butterflies this year, don’t you think