to be by

                         all moving                 sea

                                                                       horizon

                                                                                      line

　

In

   Past

   Time

   this

Other

   than

somebody’s name

a point of grammar arises

she looks

preferring correct latin

sunk

head down all that could be

thought of was ‘the plain’

stretching away

on lofty prominence

or nietsche’s mountain in

wound-licking foolishness

sun bathes the east

shadows crinkle the conifers nearby like smiles

and all is well ...

in the machine

a slow movement

re-assess attributes and duties

watch the new teacher’s profile

art is always just around the corner

of the eye

two-dimensional even

everything is so quiet falling apart

they say the writing is on the wall

i will be uplifted sometime soon

and now

the voices of the old

poets

have gone their flickering

images on new york streets

long time ago

their

shirts

their cigarettes

their

        silent conversations with beautiful women

who have children

        asleep in pushchairs

all gone

ah

where was i?