[The following word curd has been kindly shared with us by Happy Cow's good friend Simon Drew. When he is not busy raising eyebrows, Simon can be found lowering cheeks, moving noses to the left, shifting chins to the right and running the online groups English Stuff and H.A.T.S.T.A.N.D.(O.N.). You can also find his ramarkable artisticlation in the Happy Cow Gallery. If you enjoyed this dairy offering, why not show your appreciation by clicking on the 'Like' button at the bottom below. Alternatively, you could form a new political party called The Give Loads of Free Cash to The Drewtastic One Rather Than Corrupt Insolvent Banks Party and field several members as candidates at the next general election. The choice is yours. Enjoy!]
A slice of cheese,
wind cut by the blades of a fan
that laugh after the thunder
and that flashing as the eyes turn
a whisper in the choir
what falls as the balloon rises
marks left a millisecond or a millennia
or a grain of wheat in the mill
the fly drowning in the bedside glass of water
and empires falling
a step on the moon
and a cough at the back of empty afternoon classroom
the lie that was told yesterday
and the fables of midnight's dreams
those who were collected beside the highway
that grew between the stones and discarded cans
and that first winking light as a star awakens
the needle through rippled fabric
and drawn, those strings between yesterday
and the first words spoken.
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