2019
11.14
11.14
After a 3 year trip away, King Tut returns.
Lies in my garden.
Yearns for sand and camel dung.
Songs to be sung and bells to be rung
With frankincense and myrrh.
A chair for me on my final stint?
No, but take a nap amongst my garden mint.
(Tut was made using a party mask as a mould.
Made from cement, poured it in.
Peeled it off,
A face within.
He must be about 15 years old by now.
Never dies).
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