Les Wicks Petrol Head Internal               from tree hollows ideas like a gawk of juvenile galahs Combustion as ants mass from fissures in the red-soil adamancies Engines               don’t need to make sense                             to be tuned to anything more complex than this day after rain. Easter… I want music amongst my trees I (for)get his motor next door revving in its skyburrs. There’s the possibility of violence it’s hard work, to shed the feathers of this suburb. Les Wicks has been published across 30 countries in 15 languages. His 14th book of poetry is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019). He can be found at leswicks.tripod.com/lw.htmprevious page     contents     next page
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