Oliver ......... Biography

Hail, rain, sweet rain, sleet and
Winds eastward, southward and,
Northward! see, gale-blown fig
Tree-dance! stay chair-fast, mick
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The stuff that stinks
At each nose is dear
To one and all! Those
That revel in this begotten
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An absence yours, disturbingly
Entwines me; the crowned being
Of season, you're away, now beyond
The centre and shaft of the self!
...

Just as right kisses
On the wrong lips or otherwise,
Sometimes a right word
I choose for wrong thought
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I grew out of childhood
Wiser and wiser, positioning
Myself with the surfeit of knowing
On myself, but then stalking
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