The Empty Man by Virginia Griem

As I walked along the trail
I met a man that wasn’t there
I saw his hat - I saw his boots
half his trousers - bit of coat
The rucksack on his back was there
His belly wasn’t anywhere
His brain had fallen through his neck
His heart was in his boots I think
I looked around on the ground
His organs nowhere to be found
No doubt a seagull had come down
Snapped them up and flown around
Circling high above the Teign
Dropping bits of lung and spleen
Recycling is a worthy thing
With bits of plastic, bits of string
But when it comes to this poor man
Who’s really made of pots and pans
I have to wonder have to ask
What happened to the poor guy’s bottom

The Hole Man by Neil Howell

I once met a man,
a man with a hole,
a hole in the place where his stomach should be.

The whole man marched,
he marched with a pole,
a pole to embrace his entirety.

Does the man have a heart?
Does the heart have a soul?
Is the soul in the space through which you can see?

He is recycled art
and this art has a role,
a role to persuade you to think differently.

Man, hole,
hole, pole,
heart, soul,
art, role …..
all on the TRAIL at Teignmouth by sea.