alfie lee writing


What could be sadder than Martin losing his memory?

What could be sadder
than Martin loosing
his garbles?

What could be harder
than stale bred
in a cupboard?


Who would weep
his appetite
whetting his mind

on the ravages
of rhyme? Who would
object being subject

to complements? Ever last think
heard of elephants.
What my hard

meant. Whether
inclement. Who
would reveal when

in the end when
the ending self is


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