No this button first love yes that’s the idea
If I fire I might as well hit me
Foreign familiar filthy fastidious forbidden forgotten
I sprinted a dozen times over where rotten
Things grew and she cried for a sweet-flavoured minute
Fugitive fustian funebral formidable infinite
Lament Of The Representatives Of The Old Order
(A silent dummy dirge)
We kept up our facade
The unworld showed the third world how
And prized its pretty inhibitions
They undressed us
And possessed us
And now that times are hard
The unworld holds its outward show
Too late for us to change positions
They have dressed us
And confessed us
The Shuttered Street Girl
(Love song for flutes)
Her face showed like a shuttered street
Under the mauve and maureen flash
From which iguanas might crawl
Golden gullets wide
She stood there in a wet shift breathing
And just a mental block away
A lane lay in old summer green
Behind her pregnant eyes
Where a young barefoot girl might drive
Her would-be-swans all day
Or night for night and day are both
They don’t apply
There’s always summer in the dreaming elms
Till your last shuttered white year
And while the small rain fills
The thoroughfares of love
So her face in blue fermentation
When she crouches seems
Like an ever-visiting miracle
As she pees by old brickheaps
There’s whole sparse countryside
Buckling up from far
Underground as she stoops there
And our small rain raining
The Infrasound Song
Where the goose drinks wait the wildmen
Wait the wildmen watching their reflections
When the damson fruits the wildmen
Wild Neanders dream their speckled sleep
They have their dances ochre-limbed to a stone’s tune