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Sunday 2 September 2018

Man in a Sack...in a Skip...in a Quarry



Is a man.
Is a grue man.
Lives in a sack
(A bleen sack),
Deep in a hot skip,
In a dusty quarry. Vast.

No one know grue man.
No one can.
He lives at one with himself.
Sacked in a hot skip -
Quarry-way.
Somewhere nowhere. Vast.
Skipped, sacked, tight in a womb,
In a hot, dusty quarry. Vast.

Doesn't know what to do.
What he got?
Nothing much.
Spends his day thinking 'bout other sacks -
Slightly better sacks.
Sacks better than his own.

Nothing much happens
In his bleen sack,
In a hot skip,
In a dusty quarry.
What he got?
Nothing much.

Today went and came
Wi'out any ado.
Much like yesterday -
Wi'out any ado.
He counted the flea -
One by one.

Day come. Day go.
Nothing happen.
Nothing can.
Count the flea.
Nothing happen much.
Day come. Day go.
Vast. Nothing.

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