Redbush and China

Red bush and china

Mark my morning ablutions

With red and blue bushes of flowered

Petal-type of longitudinal ecstacy

As I flight along a path for the right mover

To be able to make it all over the town

With their right hand down

And left up, full throttle, with the wind

On my face from the blast of the storm of dust

From my micro-light against the props of the

Forlorn type called the rentboy for slim pickings

I wonder:  do they all try and stop when they are

About to die?  Or do they all control it into a deathspin of rotational

Anger and visciousness?

Copyright B E Saunders 2016