LONDON

reality is part of my nature

spring has accepted the overflowing green of the dead again

streets accept more funerals which are blacker yet beneath the flowers

red phone boxes in the rain like a warning

time is part of the internal organs bird voices

open every rusting face on the benches

watching night‘s eyes a prolonged flying accident

when yet another day is blotted out London



write out all my madness lick out all the brown beer’s froth

the bell’s toll in a little bird’s brain vibrates like a gloomy verse unemployed

city is part of the word the most terrifying part of me

showing my insignificance accepting

blue mildewed sheepskin slip-cover outside the window

sheep meat’s memory diligently binding

its own death dying in the unconvulsing lens

when between two pages of newsprint is a grave behind the grave is the ocean

