Zammy Spike never
blinks, never
reads a dotted line
He kicks litter
not the rabbit kind
He hugs lamp posts, whistles
at passing cars
They won't stop
He won't sleep
Won't go far
~ ~ ~
Hah
the secrets of alchemy
you know, the interrelatedness
the correspondences
the stuff you theorise about
when it's aligned with the stuff you do
like a tea ceremony, but heavy
syrupy, full of significance. God
I can hardly move off this
floor
~ ~ ~
Just to walk again
along the meadow
by Marford stream
wet my socks
touch the sky
centuries chain back
this morning