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