I imagine a field between hillsSometime decades henceIn some antipodean land(Maybe New Zealand)And within is some youthHaving a solitary picnicOn a ragged tartan tarpAnd reading a book of my poems After a while in a fit of frustrationHe throws the book clearOff a cliff edge not far awayDeclaring the verse nonsensicalThe poet a mad boreAnd…

This content is for Yearly Subscriber and Monthly Subscribers only.
Log In Subscribe Today