Poets

For something to do let's forever walk this Circle they call marriage (forever presumes neither Beginning nor end) The rigmarole of vows is over. Remember god allows himself the freedom to be the centre Of a circle whose circumference is everywhere (What Cynicism!) With caution & luck we too can be the image Of him. Love like history is bunk. Hence let your attractions range Free - I have no such intentions with humans at least. You in this world will dally to surfeit While I with the dead whose tombs are my brothels Will oil passion's stiff joints. Do not be alarmed: As they say A LUTA CONTINUA even beyond the serried graves.

From nightsky's black earth Rare lilies, like stars, Flower into life, yours and mine. Orion, Andromeda, these startling sickles. Of each our nights, recumbent beyond mere mortal Rest, are not fixed but pliant to our motion When courage lip to lip embraces despair. Do not to the deep sorrow surrender But ever twine upward to the silver light Eyes a blast furnace terror to untruth. Through windowpane I view the wide vistas Of improbability become possible, hugging each to Other in heartrending love: no more the one step That's a giant stride for mankind, but you and I In fiery leap burning bright become starfruits Over stony ground.

I get tired of the blood And the coughing and more blood I get out of that flat real fast to some cool quarrelling bar and talk big to bigger comrades washing down the blood with Castle an' Label shaking hands about Tsitsi bombed to heaven trying to forget I don't like cooking in dead people's pots and pans I don't like wearing and looking smart-arse in dead people's shirts an' pants (They said yoh mama an' bra been for you said these are your inheritance) I'm soon tight as a drum can't drink no more It's back at the flat on my back swallowing it all red back hard down I woke up too tired to break out so bright red a bubble.