18.6.17



Three miniatures

I.

Clotted grace. Sottish wind.
            The agapanthus
nods her head
                      without
    enthusiasm
                           consent
in slightest legal sense – to intrude now

would be an act of violence.

There is still solace in solitude
The sump, the swamp, the sinking bog of it.
Settle down, as dusk does.
No lance will pierce this heart.

II.

Earth Tramp. Adrift/ neither moorings nor bearings
Describing inadvertent circles and
spiralling to centre. Circumference reduced
to dot or spot, the Here.
The How of it all forgotten.

III.

Bagman. Swagman. Courier of A to B.
Take it - - - - - - - across space.
The risk resides Outside.

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