Who is the puzzled, turbaned man who gazes
into the distance from a canvas on the wall?
He’s Rembrandt, and it seems that it amazes
the artist to be taken for St. Paul.
...
Come quick, baby, and remind me
where I once began and show me
places where you think you find me,
for it’s very clear you know me
...
Good Catholics used to eat the dish
on Fridays and when they thought that God
said Fridays they must all eat fish,
the fish they chose to eat was cod.
...
I remember gentle Brent,
where detergents used to float
on a river that was meant
Wembley-wards to reach. No boat
...
Ere the leviathan can swim a league
let us in idleness for love find room,
and when we have to stop because fatigue
...
Common sense, has died, I’m sad to say,
preceded by the death of parents, Truth and Trust;
his wife Discretion also passed away,
...
When a man is greeted by
his dog he feels he is a mensch,
obedient, the dog will try
to please his master like a wench
...
Deliberately we break the glass
which like a virgin’s hymen shatters,
a ritual where, as in a mass,
it’s wine recalling blood that splatters,
...