In inscriptions, dates and confidences,
Preserved, rallied, referenced.
A high up misrule
At angle.
Echoed a hoped for
Resurrection.
I knew your voice.
Paid for at entry.
There was fire drill:
For the grave has its own music
Flat and wasted,
A note frozen behind cypresses.
This electric horse you spoke of,
Had it any reference to the way
I looked upon you
Riding along the Westway?
To beat the clock, my alarm rings –
Please god, give them what they want.
I lie awake sometimes like this,
Unable to think
Until I manage the leap
From bedroom to basin
To begin my week.
Her ambition is killing
as
Miss Wembley seats out on the six thirty,
Reading of holidays, manicures, pedicures –
enters
perfectly in ironed veil
doing admin in excelsis to the metal rhythms,
and computerised voices directing thoughts and noises
firmly between train and platform.
So making her way by season ticket
up through Maida Vale and the wealthier mezzanines.
Who is she?
Secret, searched for somewhere
On the North Circular,
is she the lark she sometimes says she is?
Just for a moment
while still visible in this setting out and setting in
her wings still visible,
in the rapid, early commuting.
Others noticed but did not say
As they went up and down
And along their way
In their more ordinary migration.
Like some infectious carp,
My bonus out
Ponders the darkening.
A hundred pound predator,
An inland shark
Swims towards the great metropolis.
No system should despair
Nor Michigan resist.
Every good American, booted, on.
He paid our debts.
Made our borders strong.
And the greenback,
What you’ll find at Kingdom come.
If it please the mighty Abraham
In smile-less state
Opening those holy and beloved gates.
With something personal
Hand upon receiver
Make this truly awesome.
Die Hard guys laughing and giggling
To themselves as they ordered pizza.
Who measure this smallest tremble.
Kids raised on Marx and aphrodisia
The same boys (spoilt I think)
Who broke the campus window
To the hot gates
Every top floor directed –
Ice sculpture of ourselves in victory.
Told to be alert, sensible
As the smirk shifted
To bundled reserves
In mysterious havens –
Correlated lights
For many to swim to.
Make science alchemy
If crazy/others madmen.
We stand in shadows
At times motionless.
From the depths: Listen. Terror. Kiss.
To those who push back
Who fall but want a piece of us.
Instead we step aside
To take to the inferno
Where dogs clean their bowls in pure lust
And money is like gold dust
A four minute warning is all you’ve got to join us.
Outstanding.
In a crash of symbols, recessions, jingles
With all the trappings of failure
In rally between nought and zero
As rates encourage more mania
Carried away to darker pools and caves
On the wheels of twelve casinos.
Now in a mass of bleeding liquidity,
A bladder with too much credit –
Circuits of pipes and plumbing
Beyond treatment.
What lies there
A simple domino of taste.
A golden apple.
A matter not of net but gross.
More than life or death.
A lifetime spent to blind Greece.
To guarantee a fortune
Without any benefit.
Let our villas, though, be saved
To live the way we live.