the curl of a tongue / specimens of subdued wrath
and lineage / water drips from the eaves; tomorrow is coming but slowly
we emerge / I don’t know what country this was / so much to hold

My eyes are reddening
although the sun is reappearing –
what I can see may soon disappear
although what I hear is the more annoying – what people say, shield me from it all

Now you’ve said all this
and written about all that
what do you think about all of it?

My habit is always to not to do, so I lay here,
fiddling with words, unsure quite what it is I’m saying.

from a pinnacle, from a plateau, from a peaky Darren, from here to maternity,
puns are the lowest form of joke, I know who we are, nothing to be proud of here,
face the facts, confess all, wipe the slate clean

But here comes Norman, enter stage left to piano accompaniment,
Gladstone bag in one hand, a Filipino hostess in the other
hand and, in the other hand – oh no, that’s not a hand
it’s a matter of conjecture

I didn’t write this before. And promise not to again.
But let me just say this: My 10 Greatest Moments: I think I am heading for #3

Tell me the news, how he did that and you did this and they want what and who is why. My celebration
has been cut short, definite reasons exist, explanations are forthcoming in due course, and headlines flirt
with the truth, such as it is.

How I laid my tired head upon your cushions
while you stoked the fire
and all the time your servants were playing with my feelings
and all the time my feelings were on the tip of your tongue

How I came upon your mountains
and across your chequered breastplate
your valleys moist and welcoming to the plough

How you placed yourself at my mercy
gave me your shadows
held open your door and invited me in