18. How Beautiful the Swift Is Flying, How Ugly When Still & Dead

Here is where we are all right
in unbroken being, yes, constant improvisation
always swimming into this world; slavery?
yes – but I cannot say, maybe we hide
the blame, the bodies, our bodies then
the wonder of it all in summer sparkles
& we are stripped of circumstances and weeds
we shall be rejoicing & thrive – thrust
to accept the delicious ecosystems of each other

of a sudden sooty, then within reverie
a question: Richard & Rita, Gilda, Glenn
Adrian & Stella – half-derelict all yet immortal
trapped that is in suffering & incompleteness
no help; congeries of shingle infest the shrine
just a Kentish artefact, briefly roseate
nothing whole; futile to improvise calm this dawn
La Vedette Atomique, my friend within the ale-house
out here the apocalypse is breaking into vapour now

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>