A new land will be

suspended from low cloud at sea

built from an aggregation of boat plumes,

sundogs and moon halos, jagged noon edges

lost string, single socks, the creases

in origami paper, incorrectly marked

senate ballot papers, reflections

in kettles, pot lids, bicycle mirrors

the smell of extinguished matches and

butcher shops.

There will be plenty of everything

you don't need and it will be cheap.

To get there you need do nothing but

open a plain brown envelope addressed

to The Householder that will

appear any day now under your

terrorist warning official issue fridge

magnet. People will not

have mouths and it will always be

twenty past two or three o'clock

in the morning and everyone has insomnia.

The system of government will be

based on an open packet of morning

coffee biscuits

which two overweight men

will pound to bits with a hammer

while they sing the theme song

from Oklahoma.

OK? Good. We're done.