Mud-larking 153

If he lights upon the mossy stone
this grey fragment of sky as if to kiss
his beak will pry and feet will comb
our feathered dandy seeks not to hide in mist
but still, in wet amongst the muck he strives
hopping about reflecting the gold rings of his eyes

 clay pipes, broken patent bottles
blue inkwells and brass buttons
the dull conspiracy of rubbish turned
 to secret doors to the naked life
 of those gone by
       and were we to tell
the secrets that we could sell
  I push history up hill
      and the birds will not even notice
 unless a little splash or swirl
            brings the present out
            of the past

   We watched for
       the sun and he did not
           forge a mighty wheel
 To the Medford and Thames
       over all and to the Tiber with him
       like a forgetful emperor
                sleeping on
             a park bench
                                     -- Reynard Crigg

via albioni

I went to see a monument
went to see aunt Margaret

whose house was next to a cornfield
  with a white porch full of pinwheels

She knew just what to do, her heart was true
We went to the bright white, city
    by a lake, which was actually the sea

  Margaret is part of the secret world
  one of parties behind hidden doors
          puddles on the bricks
 and ivy falling down the brows of houses

        I saw her with a man so handsome
            you could swear he was a statue
         so lovely you could swoon
                     with an aquiline nose so
             straight and true you
                   could carve a statue
                 with it

            I saw it all on that floor covered
                with the candid glacial glare of
                        sheets thrown on cushions
                 what a pagan show, mysterious,
                     suffused with incense and
                          the leafy smell of spoons
                                 and candles

              I had to climb up the fire escape to
                 get to our room
standing on the balcony,
          the city was making love to me
                 I have a pocket full
                        of miracles
           kiss me kiss me kiss me