he gave me a ticket, nodded his head.
‘Get on the train,’ he sighed ‘get out of bed.
‘Pick up your feet and your rucksack.’ he said
‘Get bred!’
Funny, harsh and kind
- sort of divine -
he gave no charity, or bind,
I signed.
Hands, eyes, mouth, nose, ears,
laughter and tears;
he sent me downstairs
for ninety odd years.
Pole to pole, equator, burning sun
on air and water, water even more
flooding falls a low and lulling roar.
Round, around the folly of the moon,
earth receives her fiery, far out burn;
windfall, running, falling,
feeling sore
humans winching, whirling, willful pour
nothing action midnight onto noon
shadow, shallow as their little tune
slows in summer, winter, fall;
in time
purely round and orange is the sun;
cheerful, charming earth is - in her prime
shaking, cracking, slaking, breaking down
and blue, how blue, the water in the brine.
