Buzz sows the bee as it flies to the end of the string that ties it to its hive

Buzzsaw goes the tree that flies through the air to the end of the logjam

Buzz so oh go sow the bow and arrow that try for the air race to the conference of the Holy Ones

Buzz sow the words of the ep-I, the luck of the draw sows for nowt.

It is for all to see and hear that it all gets in the end of the frame and to the end of the picture

Where it is all a frame-up of the worst complexion, the frame of the world goes back and in

To the start of the new frame that is something worse that before


And it is the truth of it that it is

And stain it does upon the wrist of the neighbour of St Anne the August.

It withers and so dies upon the vine of hope where the seed of time

Gets a germinant for the excuse called the Timeless zone

Where no frame exists.

It is a not and a no not a know but a nihilistic No!

End of.

Copyright B E Saunders 2016


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