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red muck of day
In the Red Muck Of Day,
The world is all that is the case.
Dear hobbledehoy, this hoosegow’s black,
From womb to tomb there’s no way back.

With broken bricks and discarded sticks,
The hazy origin of one, as a tourist it’s always more fun.
And the Red Muck Of Day,
Will continue to push, eyes crossed, mouth drawn shut – lie down.
Dawn daw, door down.

I hope the feed from Mumma’s breast,
Will bleach my teeth under the weight of Aerial’s grey vail.
And still I’m sold, transfigured and cross-filed
Hidden in pockets with mirrors and go-go dancers.
Napier’s bones size up stillborn dreams –
Come out to play with me
In the burning Red Muck Of Day.
 
 
 
© 2007 andrew plummer
 
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