We sit stuffed
inside
our bleak dioramas
alongside reduced in number
pandas –
just another
close to extinction creature
which thought it was
way beyond Ma’ Nature –
now tipped by selfish
imbalances
Her cruel
countermeasures
will not let us survive
our
climate changed summers
outside
Sweet stinking cattle
of Brough Hill
our machinations
are latched on to you by
German engineering
sucking you near to dry
With such heat –
you should wear white –
this is now a foreign field
of burnt harvests
A limited release
of back catalogue
memories land me
among kids with Uzis
in Tel Aviv – then south –
to be met by my family
and dairy farming
without pastures
