written 1966
for Hal Smith
per sepia
a paradozy to acanaemics
up again in the heat of spring
& the grass was parched last summer
apple pied the autumn windrow
mashed pears to boot & I sigh
I see she tires of the fly moving over
her well lit body & would die
before having another fiddle in it
the mouse shifts about in the cupboard
flicking its pause to the ceiling
of that unplanished self
shall I tire myself down in oblivion
lying around roaring in dirt
Sweaty voice my sorrow
crack another curse
for my love is a black clock
will crow & must feed it
Dogbolt bring
on the marching girls
who with Hairyhot
are firm starters
like weasel so often said
if the stallion doesn't go on about it
there isn't much point
bursting is the very purple blackberry
they were always juicy
by the septic tank
scruffy that nice like brush
'stop mauling me you dirty old man'
the mouse did her bit in the cupboard
so you'd better be inthe next rush
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