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The Twitter The lonely man twitters An angry group of sparrows Two people are objects He objects to His words are spanners Easing his nuts and bolts But nobody listens A few do smile, most ignore His anger. Distress of space Nibbles at the corners Where his eyes slumber His head lolls with the bus Like some mute tango As if air holds him and love Transports pieces of him Over the Campsie Fells © David Incoll 2001 |
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Copyright by David Incoll 2001 |