The lights on the Welsh coastline shine
Her whiskey days are full of ink
& broken milk bottles, a grief so hidden
it’s barely there to be read as her plight
The Army took her boys & never
gave them back but she only ever
cries when she’s chopping onions at night
& reading the obituaries in the newspapers
at night she prays to Angels up on high
but never goes to Church on Sundays
not since the Vicar told her it was
all for the best & they had done their bit
the country should be proud of them
-she finds no comfort in such things

You were my white rabbit
to follow, take me away

I was an Angel called Alice that
thought you a thing of beauty

All you saw down the rabbit hole
was dust & dirt, darkness,

I saw Angels sadly singing,
locked up, little pills at bedtime

but was reassured the way the world shone
when I said your name

I was convinced
you were waiting for me there

so I asked someone
the way to the fireworks

in Rabbit town, they
weren't sure if there

were going to be any
' No fireworks, on Bonfire night?'

so I followed the talking lamp lights
all the way to the dim, dank river

where a homeless man,
whom I thought to be a messenger

asked me for a coin
& pointed me to a pub

where Rabbits
were gathered drinking

old porter or stout
' There are no fireworks tonight'

they said & asked me
for my passport

''An Angel?
& down here? Ha ha!"

'' I bet she's never
been ******!"

" Look, please,
I'm just trying to find someone''

I said, not a little upset
'' Yeah, well, who?''

so I told them about you
& they laughed & laughed

'' Us rabbits don't love Angels
He doesn't love you''

'' I think he is a man'' I said
'' That's even worse : lost cause'', they scoffed

as I made my way out
of the Rabbit pub

someone brushed past me
'' Psst, psst, he lives up North''

so I made my way
to the rabbit train station

sat down briefly
on a wall to rest

just then a police car
with some rabbits turned up

'' Angel, you must be cold
what are you doing out here''

'' Yes, get in the car" they said
I tried to explain as best as I was allowed

that I was on my way to meet you
but they packed me away into the car

& before I knew it, drove me there too
Now I'm just another Angel

locked up, drugged & singing sadly
' mental health' the problem, apparently

& each day they tell me
that you don't love me

that's what they do,
the rabbit quacks

but when I get out
I'm going to find you

I'm an Angel,
& Angels always have faith.

My love for you is like
a hot air balloon
from which you can
suddenly see everything
I always did have vertigo
so I fly in it with closed eyes
also, I fear that if I opened them
I'd see that our lives
are two separate rivers
that never reach the same Ocean
& that I cannot change this
no matter how much I try
& that I have to let you go
when we both land

In the hope of grasslands
stands an ancient Baobab tree
somewhere, a village
of dust & dirt, wakes slowly
she ties her shoelaces
an elephant walks past
on the distant horizon
the camera breaks
right at that moment
when she wants to take
a picture to bring home
so she resorts to postcards,
half-written letters
& learning the language
so she could impress them
the hotel porter, a lean boy
of merely twenty-two
watches her
his hunger is written
like lightning in his eyes

All the way past Westminster
the Thames breathes rain & clouds

                                                         ­                     & the grim reaper beckons
                                                         ­                        in the iron vein moonlight
& I, I,
an I is an Eye
                                                             ­                  open wide a thousand times
                                                           ­                   & the grim reaper beckoning
Basho & the Dalai lama
might help me find
                                                            ­                                 the restless gambler,
                                                        ­                                            cards in hand
or escape the ships
that never sail past the horizon,

                                                       ­                                                     tribunals
  ­                                                                 ­                            & looking out now
from Cabot tower now past Bristol & beyond
a homeless man sits waiting
                                                         ­                                                     paper cup
                                                             ­                                            & styrofoam
& Clocks do not
tell the time

                                                           ­                              they are merely told it
                                                              ­                  yet in their vanity proclaim that they alone are it's keepers
& our only friend & Nemesis

So I went
down the rabbit hole
thinking I was following you, my love
They would have said
it was Mad
that's why I didn't tell anyone
that the living room table & house
was divided into different countries
America at the helm
Germany, Britain and Russia
as I stood in my chequered coat
for days on end, crying
believing people thought I was Stalin
or else, a diplomat
about to be killed
& M&S; tea, the package
being red & black
made me think of communism
( red) & fascism ( black)
& though being neither
I wanted to promptly
order my mother
to spread it amongst the people
then realized the irony of this
& refrained
instead, asking her
why she was sending signals
to the neighbors
by putting the kettle on
whilst praying for all the believers
in and of True Love
True Love,
salvation & fury
debased by them
on purpose, I thought
' Erotomaniac'
what?
Simply for wanting
to have hope?
Believing in romance?
And you,
who rejected me
you'll never know Wonderland
all you saw was a rabbit hole,
darkness & dirt
& it's true, it all just turned into barbed wire
& Angels singing, locked up
little pills at bedtime
fear, my only crime
& yet for a while before that
the world shone
& I don't know how to talk about that
it's just that I thought
every person I met
would lead me to your door
that all the songs in the world
were sung for me
& that all your poetry
was a declaration of love
just waiting to happen

Ripped curtains,
angry clowns
a bottle of absinthe
on the table stands
' that stuff rots your brain'
he says & she smiles
& pours herself a little
the angry clowns
try in vain to mend the curtains
he knocks over
the bottle of absinthe
& she raises an eyebrow,
fixes her garter
outside, the cardboard moon
plays with the dark,
they kiss,
a youthful painter paints them
having paid
for his latest brush
as usual
with *** & lies
a white lily in a vase
looks on
silently