I Believe in Circular Rotation

The snow comes a mute swan to cover my feet

Of clay to be rendered down when the weather warms

A puddles indentation briefest mention in a drought

Sing my days diminution a Beatles tune

Day tripper in a Somerset South Sea story

Dance for a sixpence without pants

Ignore the ignominious 
As they you

Tip your hat a swell in the deep end

Hold your nose against the din and all that 
That entails

Entrails and garden path’s lead you astray

Wink of a winsome lass pony tailed

Swishing hey how you doing

It warms mid afternoon light flickers on

Reflective surfaces distorts all images

Real or imagined in sleeps recesses

A nap most welcome settle for a quick smoke

Turn off the cell phone unplug the computer yank

Throw the modem over your shoulder for good luck

Hang your socks over the radiator slip on a disk

Play some NOLA Gris-Gris Tom Tom and Tambourines

Leave your hat on the turntable spinning