LONDON

reality is part of my nature
spring has accepted the overflowing green of the dead again
streets    accept more funerals which are blacker yet beneath the flowers
red phone boxes in the rain like a warning
time is part of the internal organs    bird voices
open every rusting face on the benches
watching night‘s eyes a prolonged flying accident
when yet another day is blotted out    London

write out all my madness    lick out all the brown beer’s froth
the bell’s toll in a little bird’s brain vibrates like a gloomy verse unemployed
city is part of the word    the most terrifying part of me
showing my insignificance    accepting
blue mildewed sheepskin slip-cover outside the window
sheep meat’s memory diligently binding
its own death    dying in    the unconvulsing lens
when between two pages of newsprint is a grave    behind the grave is the ocean