Thursday, September 15, 2011

brylcreem tea

the street is jumping & I'm desperate
I'm going all out with constant noise

Hole in her stocking and she keeps on rocking

I'm in the shop looking in the old cages,
steel pen behind the ear, I'm flattening
out an old, crumpled newspaper, kneeling on it.

Phoebe with younger sister Cora
at Liverpool
eve of world tour

lady with "Gib", an anaconda

Michaelmas term

I don't like things too fast.
It's starting
No it's stopping again, like the drink.
Early afternoon sherbet

to summer and the pines
gael maisie and the rat

It was that pissed-off look in the lane:
no-one was good enough.
It was a secret message,
it made you good enough for me.

But you could have had mine.

And there was the
big floppy book, E-K.
I tried to look up someone
but this bird has flown

as I roast in my sunset

Labels:

2 Comments:

At 7:46 pm, Blogger Vincent said...

Ah, I recognise the nostalgia! You have to be a certain age. Nice one.

 
At 2:19 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

...ancient :)

 

Post a Comment

<< Home

Powered by Blogger

Nature Blog Network