was drawn-out
but fun
there was a bonfire
with those
small sausages
on sticks
we all whooped
it up on
homebrew
afterwards
— not much
some-
body’s dead
uncle with a space
for a face
onto which we projected
our various longings
and fears
hung about for a time —
a clutch
of haiku (bad)
came of that
and one
stab (thank God,
only one)
at an elegy
then nothing
— for a bit
then
a wren
blew in
who an expert
swore
had sung
an entire saga
in the original
Norse
(they ran tests
but it died)
finally bull
-dozers brought
down the whole
place for
flats with a top
notch gym
on the
side
some bright
spark
branded it Poetry
in Motion
— we really
really did laugh
