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).


click on image to enlarge


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