|
KENT MACCARTER
Baby Shower
- Allowably, a new toy new to a new nation
-
It’s a brewery
- Gifted before tiny brown-green infantry
- Deploy; Daddy’s flag
- Tattooed all across their backs
- Loyal down to spinal chords
- Under chummy civvies. Gifted
- Before sporty model aeroplanes flock up
- Sporting also those oh-so Flagrant
Daddies’
- Flags – painted on the smartly
bolted
- Fuselages. Now, it’s on
- Friends. Ambassadors
- Rattle your engines. Germany, lo
- That wide and gushing minder, sunk
- For all those thirsty Namibians
- A Windhoek well. Directions – tongue
- A into groove B thus aquifer C may be
- Freed up. We’ll call up the suits up
- Copenhagen way
- Princes. In a dry Port Vila cured wet
- A memento from Never Never land in bottle
green
- Tusker, no, not the mannequin suds
you’re thinking of
- Coconut roasting and the malting process
- Absolutely refusing to occupy the smelly
tango
- Scandinavians shell out big pence to
score big
- On Saturday morning. Lean Peruvians pour
off slopes
- Onto town, cupping thin their oxygen
- Suckling out firm the wort of
Cusquena’s teat
- Hopped up high in the Andes
- A new nation receives a range
- Of big gifts and cannot cook up the slope
- Allowably, a new toy new to a new nation
- The first doodad is a brewery, and
secondly
- Another huge thing
- A new nation gets is screwed
|