A landscape built at ten past midnight

Rolling hills, grassy carpet daisy-dotted,

Teletubby land but without the disturbing lion and bear who were the fear of all kids born in the nineties,

A vegan KFC plopped in the middle provides ethical nourishment in the land of Bedfordshire,

Red and white tiles, but we’re in England, not America – I assume.

And I can sit on the floor it’s that clean, just in the corner where I like it.

Cake and custard for afters and you don’t have to pay, obviously, because who pays for things in dreamlands.

Swan in the city

Pan fast through the city and it’s brown walls

Pan fast through the wires and the phone calls

Pan fast through the pipes,

Underground the man holes, pop out through the top Torpedo

Look from the clouds Parachute,

Swan, look from the navy night, keep cool in the star’s light

Pan fast over city with a speed unfounded,

Look down, reckless, as the poor stay grounded,

Glide past the city with a soundless motion,

Swoop past the city with a clouded notion of what it’s like to be a rat there

And bear the financial weight and the grating presence of swans.