Words/ cages; the 8th dwarf, his dictionary in Snow White’s lap; why attach when we have one

only one proto-solid heart anyway? Crop circles for example; and geese

to the Avon whose rustwire screech my brains out

in sleet back then I run. On one side, river –

the other first-breath. Let me go! the neighbour

laments from his shattered star. Mum

and me in Caernarfon on the castle bridge.

Come back! I need safe passage. How

many deaths in a flight of fancy?

The rules sketch appetite, fretwork. Illusion

and the felt unknown. I must phone home.

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