Time to slake our thirst for words

A cerebral circle of wordsmithery

Burying two dozen rats

In your neighbour’s garden

Under their prized rose patch

Whom you’d never liked one night

There’s a rat in the allotment –

What am I going to do?

Don’t worry – every little thing’s all right

So the broken beasts of shadows that speak

A bird, drawn in sand,...

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