"a world where no such road will run
From you to me
To watch that world come up like a cold sun,
Rewarding others, is my liberty."
Who can’t see autumn coming?
Come cloudburst, who falls in?
Whose victories are numbing?
What was; where have I been?
What is, I don’t get out much:
am unemployed on call
since the sky hitched up its moving-parts
and bolted through the wall.
I who can’t hear for my own hum,
the undone product less than sum,
the dolt in longing for The Femme –
what reason could there be?
Charges: blind to dimming ardour,
Trying badly, missing harder
Last resort hint chance discarder –
I would not blame you me.
What was was shock superfluity.
What was is repossessed.
None own their shares in earthly beauty.
Make do. Lie; “s’for the best”.