Hunting Kins Poem by Ander Greigon

Think of the days,
Unreal and the fays,
Notch and device
Kind and a dice

Thinkable sadness;
Puny and crees;
Lonely and doubtness
Latter despise

Oughtable sleeps,
Counting and sheeps;
Singer and flees
Wonder commends

Nice would belong;
Maundy and flaws,
Coming to saints
What would reverse

Justing and views;
Bulky hot news:
Finning is a race
Primary place

Conorary deets,
Clamps and unfees
Mild, raw and knews
Solitary foes.