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23 Still there is time To watch the city’s council Bring down brick walls on hens and chicks, Blessing them and saying Amen Then suddenly, I realize How hard it is For the physical hand To wipe off sweat in the soul And I stand here Dying Of a mortal longing For Muanenguba’s evenings When the dusk Places a gag on the noise-lipped mouth of noon Sitting captive amid coffee plants, And awaiting freedom at the morrow’s wrinkling Of the dawn COMMERCIAL ON ROTLAND Once at your best Of summer holiday destinations Take a deep breath and Relax in the swindle-fouled air of Rotland Sup alfresco On a dish Of fish, dead In lakes turned black from this Massive spill of cupidity like an oil slick 24 Sit On silted kleptomania At rust-coloured river banks And watch Such natural phenomena As money Passing furtively From one leprous hand To the other Etc… Summer suns And a pottage Of sweet potatoes, blighted In the ego-acidic content Of Rotland’s humus There Where such terrible marvels await you Is Rotland; Your land Of promise RECIPE Pour a glass of skimmed graft in a pot Set pot on hellfire and then Put eight kilos of sun-dried STDs, Two spoonfuls of the malaria spice And a pinch Of crushed penury. Add half a litre ...

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