Sheep Talk

Group of poems I'm working on; my surreal inclination is fulfilled. I like to open my mind to the words and the poem shapes itself.

As I eat into my endless summer sloth

My fragility bends.

I seek out new life and civilisation

Without the trek.

I sweep up all the calls

Of each rainswept fox and


I feel around the edges of your shadow

And I am happy at

Your inability to take a fresh step backwards.

I plan to charge on ahead

Until I wait for myself to babble and

Talk myself out of my own future.

Innanely I strive to swim away, and wilt.

The End

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