Poems by

The Conceit of Elves

a poem by Chris

Justness is a filament
A ragged cardigan of comfort
To wrap around God’s more obvious lies

You, frankly, beam back vacuity
Like an alien lifeform
in a galaxy full of latent visigoths

Musty, vast and laughably sour
There is less trust in an apple pips’
Potential than in a cod’s liver my friend