Tweedledee said to Alice, "You like poetry-"

"Ye-es, pretty well-some poetry," Alice said doubtfully.

"What shall I repeat to her," said Tweedledee, looking round at
Tweedledum with great solemn eyes.

"'The Walrus and the Carpenter' is the longest," Tweedledum replied,
giving his brother an affectionate hug.

Tweedledee began instantly:

The Walrus And The Carpenter

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright-
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done-
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead-
There were no birds to fly

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "It would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept for half a year,
Do you suppose," the walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O, Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head-
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat-
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more-
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes-and ships-and sealing wax-
Of cabbages-and kings-
And why the sea is boiling hot-
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.


"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed-
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue,
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine," the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?"

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said:
"I deeply sympathize."
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
"You had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?"
But answer came there none-
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Brave Menelaus son of Atreus now came to know that Patroclus had
fallen, and made his way through the front ranks clad in full armour
to bestride him. As a cow stands lowing over her first calf, even so
did yellow-haired Menelaus bestride Patroclus. He held his round
shield and his spear in front of him, resolute to **** any who
should dare face him. But the son of Panthous had also noted the body,
and came up to Menelaus saying, “Menelaus, son of Atreus, draw back,
leave the body, and let the bloodstained spoils be. I was first of the
Trojans and their brave allies to drive my spear into Patroclus, let
me, therefore, have my full glory among the Trojans, or I will take
aim and **** you.”
  To this Menelaus answered in great anger “By father Jove, boasting
is an ill thing. The pard is not more bold, nor the lion nor savage
wild-boar, which is fiercest and most dauntless of all creatures, than
are the proud sons of Panthous. Yet Hyperenor did not see out the days
of his youth when he made light of me and withstood me, deeming me the
meanest soldier among the Danaans. His own feet never bore him back to
gladden his wife and parents. Even so shall I make an end of you
too, if you withstand me; get you back into the crowd and do not
face me, or it shall be worse for you. Even a fool may be wise after
the event.”
  Euphorbus would not listen, and said, “Now indeed, Menelaus, shall
you pay for the death of my brother over whom you vaunted, and whose
wife you widowed in her bridal chamber, while you brought grief
unspeakable on his parents. I shall comfort these poor people if I
bring your head and armour and place them in the hands of Panthous and
noble Phrontis. The time is come when this matter shall be fought
out and settled, for me or against me.”
  As he spoke he struck Menelaus full on the shield, but the spear did
not go through, for the shield turned its point. Menelaus then took
aim, praying to father Jove as he did so; Euphorbus was drawing
back, and Menelaus struck him about the roots of his throat, leaning
his whole weight on the spear, so as to drive it home. The point
went clean through his neck, and his armour rang rattling round him as
he fell heavily to the ground. His hair which was like that of the
Graces, and his locks so deftly bound in bands of silver and gold,
were all bedrabbled with blood. As one who has grown a fine young
olive tree in a clear space where there is abundance of water—the
plant is full of promise, and though the winds beat upon it from every
quarter it puts forth its white blossoms till the blasts of some
fierce hurricane sweep down upon it and level it with the ground—even
so did Menelaus strip the fair youth Euphorbus of his armour after
he had slain him. Or as some fierce lion upon the mountains in the
pride of his strength fastens on the finest heifer in a herd as it
is feeding—first he breaks her neck with his strong jaws, and then
gorges on her blood and entrails; dogs and shepherds raise a hue and
cry against him, but they stand aloof and will not come close to
him, for they are pale with fear—even so no one had the courage to
face valiant Menelaus. The son of Atreus would have then carried off
the armour of the son of Panthous with ease, had not Phoebus Apollo
been angry, and in the guise of Mentes chief of the Cicons incited
Hector to attack him. “Hector,” said he, “you are now going after
the horses of the noble son of Aeacus, but you will not take them;
they cannot be kept in hand and driven by mortal man, save only by
Achilles, who is son to an immortal mother. Meanwhile Menelaus son
of Atreus has bestridden the body of Patroclus and killed the
noblest of the Trojans, Euphorbus son of Panthous, so that he can
fight no more.”
  The god then went back into the toil and turmoil, but the soul of
Hector was darkened with a cloud of grief; he looked along the ranks
and saw Euphorbus lying on the ground with the blood still flowing
from his wound, and Menelaus stripping him of his armour. On this he
made his way to the front like a flame of fire, clad in his gleaming
armour, and crying with a loud voice. When the son of Atreus heard
him, he said to himself in his dismay, “Alas! what shall I do? I may
not let the Trojans take the armour of Patroclus who has fallen
fighting on my behalf, lest some Danaan who sees me should cry shame
upon me. Still if for my honour’s sake I fight Hector and the
Trojans single-handed, they will prove too many for me, for Hector
is bringing them up in force. Why, however, should I thus hesitate?
When a man fights in despite of heaven with one whom a god
befriends, he will soon rue it. Let no Danaan think ill of me if I
give place to Hector, for the hand of heaven is with him. Yet, if I
could find Ajax, the two of us would fight Hector and heaven too, if
we might only save the body of Patroclus for Achilles son of Peleus.
This, of many evils would be the least.”
  While he was thus in two minds, the Trojans came up to him with
Hector at their head; he therefore drew back and left the body,
turning about like some bearded lion who is being chased by dogs and
men from a stockyard with spears and hue and cry, whereon he is
daunted and slinks sulkily off—even so did Menelaus son of Atreus
turn and leave the body of Patroclus. When among the body of his
men, he looked around for mighty Ajax son of Telamon, and presently
saw him on the extreme left of the fight, cheering on his men and
exhorting them to keep on fighting, for Phoebus Apollo had spread a
great panic among them. He ran up to him and said, “Ajax, my good
friend, come with me at once to dead Patroclus, if so be that we may
take the body to Achilles—as for his armour, Hector already has it.”
  These words stirred the heart of Ajax, and he made his way among the
front ranks, Menelaus going with him. Hector had stripped Patroclus of
his armour, and was dragging him away to cut off his head and take the
body to fling before the dogs of Troy. But Ajax came up with his
shield like wall before him, on which Hector withdrew under shelter of
his men, and sprang on to his chariot, giving the armour over to the
Trojans to take to the city, as a great trophy for himself; Ajax,
therefore, covered the body of Patroclus with his broad shield and
bestrode him; as a lion stands over his whelps if hunters have come
upon him in a forest when he is with his little ones—in the pride and
fierceness of his strength he draws his knit brows down till they
cover his eyes—even so did Ajax bestride the body of Patroclus, and
by his side stood Menelaus son of Atreus, nursing great sorrow in
his heart.
  Then Glaucus son of Hippolochus looked fiercely at Hector and
rebuked him sternly. “Hector,” said he, “you make a brave show, but in
fight you are sadly wanting. A runaway like yourself has no claim to
so great a reputation. Think how you may now save your town and
citadel by the hands of your own people born in Ilius; for you will
get no Lycians to fight for you, seeing what thanks they have had
for their incessant hardships. Are you likely, sir, to do anything
to help a man of less note, after leaving Sarpedon, who was at once
your guest and comrade in arms, to be the spoil and prey of the
Danaans? So long as he lived he did good service both to your city and
yourself; yet you had no stomach to save his body from the dogs. If
the Lycians will listen to me, they will go home and leave Troy to its
fate. If the Trojans had any of that daring fearless spirit which lays
hold of men who are fighting for their country and harassing those who
would attack it, we should soon bear off Patroclus into Ilius. Could
we get this dead man away and bring him into the city of Priam, the
Argives would readily give up the armour of Sarpedon, and we should
get his body to boot. For he whose squire has been now killed is the
foremost man at the ships of the Achaeans—he and his close-fighting
followers. Nevertheless you dared not make a stand against Ajax, nor
face him, eye to eye, with battle all round you, for he is a braver
man than you are.”
  Hector scowled at him and answered, “Glaucus, you should know
better. I have held you so far as a man of more understanding than any
in all Lycia, but now I despise you for saying that I am afraid of
Ajax. I fear neither battle nor the din of chariots, but Jove’s will
is stronger than ours; Jove at one time makes even a strong man draw
back and snatches victory from his grasp, while at another he will set
him on to fight. Come hither then, my friend, stand by me and see
indeed whether I shall play the coward the whole day through as you
say, or whether I shall not stay some even of the boldest Danaans from
fighting round the body of Patroclus.”
  As he spoke he called loudly on the Trojans saying, “Trojans,
Lycians, and Dardanians, fighters in close combat, be men, my friends,
and fight might and main, while I put on the goodly armour of
Achilles, which I took when I killed Patroclus.”
  With this Hector left the fight, and ran full speed after his men
who were taking the armour of Achilles to Troy, but had not yet got
far. Standing for a while apart from the woeful fight, he changed
his armour. His own he sent to the strong city of Ilius and to the
Trojans, while he put on the immortal armour of the son of Peleus,
which the gods had given to Peleus, who in his age gave it to his son;
but the son did not grow old in his father’s armour.
  When Jove, lord of the storm-cloud, saw Hector standing aloof and
arming himself in the armour of the son of Peleus, he wagged his
head and muttered to himself saying, “A! poor wretch, you arm in the
armour of a hero, before whom many another trembles, and you reck
nothing of the doom that is already close upon you. You have killed
his comrade so brave and strong, but it was not well that you should
strip the armour from his head and shoulders. I do indeed endow you
with great might now, but as against this you shall not return from
battle to lay the armour of the son of Peleus before Andromache.”
  The son of Saturn bowed his portentous brows, and Hector fitted
the armour to his body, while terrible Mars entered into him, and
filled his whole body with might and valour. With a shout he strode in
among the allies, and his armour flashed about him so that he seemed
to all of them like the great son of Peleus himself. He went about
among them and cheered them on—Mesthles, Glaucus, Medon,
Thersilochus, Asteropaeus, Deisenor and Hippothous, Phorcys,
Chromius and Ennomus the augur. All these did he exhort saying,
“Hear me, allies from other cities who are here in your thousands,
it was not in order to have a crowd about me that I called you
hither each from his several city, but that with heart and soul you
might defend the wives and little ones of the Trojans from the
fierce Achaeans. For this do I oppress my people with your food and
the presents that make you rich. Therefore turn, and charge at the
foe, to stand or fall as is the game of war; whoever shall bring
Patroclus, dead though he be, into the hands of the Trojans, and shall
make Ajax give way before him, I will give him one half of the
spoils while I keep the other. He will thus share like honour with
myself.”
  When he had thus spoken they charged full weight upon the Danaans
with their spears held out before them, and the hopes of each ran high
that he should force Ajax son of Telamon to yield up the body—fools
that they were, for he was about to take the lives of many. Then
Ajax said to Menelaus, “My good friend Menelaus, you and I shall
hardly come out of this fight alive. I am less concerned for the
body of Patroclus, who will shortly become meat for the dogs and
vultures of Troy, than for the safety of my own head and yours. Hector
has wrapped us round in a storm of battle from every quarter, and
our destruction seems now certain. Call then upon the princes of the
Danaans if there is any who can hear us.”
  Menelaus did as he said, and shouted to the Danaans for help at
the top of his voice. “My friends,” he cried, “princes and counsellors
of the Argives, all you who with Agamemnon and Menelaus drink at the
public cost, and give orders each to his own people as Jove vouchsafes
him power and glory, the fight is so thick about me that I cannot
distinguish you severally; come on, therefore, every man unbidden, and
think it shame that Patroclus should become meat and morsel for Trojan
hounds.”
  Fleet Ajax son of Oileus heard him and was first to force his way
through the fight and run to help him. Next came Idomeneus and
Meriones his esquire, peer of murderous Mars. As for the others that
came into the fight after these, who of his own self could name them?
  The Trojans with Hector at their head charged in a body. As a
great wave that comes thundering in at the mouth of some heaven-born
river, and the rocks that jut into the sea ring with the roar of the
breakers that beat and buffet them—even with such a roar did the
Trojans come on; but the Achaeans in singleness of heart stood firm
about the son of Menoetius, and fenced him with their bronze
shields. Jove, moreover, hid the brightness of their helmets in a
thick cloud, for he had borne no grudge against the son of Menoetius
while he was still alive and squire to the descendant of Aeacus;
therefore he was loth to let him fall a prey to the dogs of his foes
the Trojans, and urged his comrades on to defend him.
  At first the Trojans drove the Achaeans back, and they withdrew from
the dead man daunted. The Trojans did not succeed in killing any
one, nevertheless they drew the body away. But the Achaeans did not
lose it long, for Ajax, foremost of all the Danaans after the son of
Peleus alike in stature and prowess, quickly rallied them and made
towards the front like a wild boar upon the mountains when he stands
at bay in the forest glades and routs the hounds and ***** youths that
have attacked him—even so did Ajax son of Telamon passing easily in
among the phalanxes of the Trojans, disperse those who had
bestridden Patroclus and were most bent on winning glory by dragging
him off to their city. At this moment Hippothous brave son of the
Pelasgian Lethus, in his zeal for Hector and the Trojans, was dragging
the body off by the foot through the press of the fight, having
bound a strap round the sinews near the ancle; but a mischief soon
befell him from which none of those could save him who would have
gladly done so, for the son of Telamon sprang forward and smote him on
his bronze-cheeked helmet. The plumed headpiece broke about the
point of the weapon, struck at once by the spear and by the strong
hand of Ajax, so that the ****** brain came oozing out through the
crest-socket. His strength then failed him and he let Patroclus’
foot drop from his hand, as he fell full length dead upon the body;
thus he died far from the fertile land of Larissa, and never repaid
his parents the cost of bringing him up, for his life was cut short
early by the spear of mighty Ajax. Hector then took aim at Ajax with a
spear, but he saw it coming and just managed to avoid it; the spear
passed on and struck Schedius son of noble Iphitus, captain of the
Phoceans, who dwelt in famed Panopeus and reigned over much people; it
struck him under the middle of the collar-bone the bronze point went
right through him, coming out at the bottom of his shoulder-blade, and
his armour rang rattling round him as he fell heavily to the ground.
Ajax in his turn struck noble Phorcys son of Phaenops in the middle of
the belly as he was bestriding Hippothous, and broke the plate of
his cuirass; whereon the spear tore out his entrails and he clutched
the ground in his palm as he fell to earth. Hector and those who
were in the front rank then gave ground, while the Argives raised a
loud cry of triumph, and drew off the bodies of Phorcys and Hippothous
which they stripped presently of their armour.
  The Trojans would now have been worsted by the brave Achaeans and
driven back to Ilius through their own cowardice, while the Argives,
so great was their courage and endurance, would have achieved a
triumph even against the will of Jove, if Apollo had not roused
Aeneas, in the lik

I stood in line
to be weighed
in the bathroom
of the nursing home

Anne crutched herself
behind me
you haven't
got a chance in hell

of winning
that chocolate bar Kid
she said
I've seen more meat

on a butcher's pencil
stuck behind his ear
might win
I said

might fly
she said  
the kid in front of me
got on

the green metal scales
and the nun
moved the weight
along the top

not you Malcolm
she said
the kid got off sulkily
I got on the scales

and the nun
moved the weight
I looked at her
black and white

headdress
her pinched features
not you Benny
she said

I got off
and walked away
Anne awkwardly
got on the scales

holding herself
on her one leg
the stump
of the other

hanging there
best so far Anne
the nun said
told you Kid

you didn't
have a chance
guess not
I said

as she crutched herself
along side of me
not to worry
if I get the choco bar

I’ll give you
a quarter for being
a good friend
no other

in this *******
gets a look in
we went along
to our rooms

come in Kid
she said
I hesitated
come in

I want to
ask you something
I stood swaying
uncertain

what if
one of the nuns
comes along?  
what if I don't give you

quarter of the choc bar?
she said
I followed her in
to the girls dorm

no one else
was there
just she and me
she closed the door

with her backside
right Kid
I want you
to do me

a favour
favour?
I said
sensing uncertainty

hit my gut
yes I want you
to sneak along
to the kitchen tonight

and liberate
some biscuits
liberate?
I said

biscuits?
yes you know
what biscuits are
don't you

those hard things
with cream in the middle
or chocolate
on one side

I know what biscuits are
I said
but what do you mean
liberate?

take some
from the big tin
they have
on the shelf

in larder
take?
I said
you mean steal?

steal
take
liberate
whatever word

you want
to use Kid
what if I get caught?
don't get caught

but what if I do?
Anne sighed
sat on the edge
of her bed

I thought you
were someone
I could rely on Kid
not some cowardly custard

yellow belly
I looked
at her leg stump
sticking out

the other leg
reached to the floor
if you're really good
I’ll let you touch

my stump
she said
no need
I said

I'll try tonight
sneak down
after lights out
good Kid

she said
she took my right hand
and lay it
on the stump

and held it there
it felt warm
and soft
she let my hand go

good huh?
wish the rest
was there
she said

off you go
and don't get caught
I nodded
and backed out

of the room
seeing her cover
the stump
with her dress

and smile
see you
I said
you bet

she said
I walked away
thinking
of the big steal

of biscuits
unthought through
by my 10 year old brain
as yet.

Ah, I'm red, red, red, red, red! Blush didst I odiously-heavily and gaily, soon as my cheating eyes caught t'at sight of thee! Yes, my dear! So splendid in thy furry, silky coats, ah! silver and red just like th' plentiful breaths of thy streaming innocent gladness; and so perfectly swimming in the oceans of thy handsome face. How profuse and miraculously stunning, like t'ose proud branches of th' juvenile brown verdure-clinging to th' wreaths of cloudy smokes, but still in possession of t'eir own light-hearted lives. How my pride, and weary confidence, sulkily musically leaned away and eagerly bubbled out of my entire conscience; ah, gasping for air then I ended up, unable to **** in th' very atmosphere of th' corridors in which I numbly stood. How I was incurably merged into thee, my love! But still-can't thou see it? My wit, oh, my absurd, haughty wit-and waning intellectual dignity, all were but worse and merely remnants of desultory shadows as soon as thou heaved thy shiny self into view; and straight away-ah! in th' one very blink of th' cautious eye of thee-my thorns of meek feelings were but cheered again with unseen crowns of white dew. Oh, querida! How I plodded about th' magnanimous region of our dwellings, yes-amidst t'ose chirping buds of waterlilies and lavender-like moors out t'ere-t'is morning, with thy image so clearly evoked within my chest, before satirically-and dolefully-giving up my fragmented efforts-as I found thee not, my love! But t'is tearful evening, o, as agitated, sombre and colourless as it would ever become, soon flashed into mine t'at wildness, and yet flirtatiousness-of thee, bathed in jubilant waters of light, and deafening storms-ah! t'ose torturous storms of benevolence, hysterical prudence, and ingenious salutations. Oh, how sure and convinced I duly am now-t'at thou art th' only merit and most precious gift I shall ever love, cherish, and care for. Thou art, indeed, th' sole man I want, and am ever desirous of, in t'is mortal world-for I consider thy love immortal, and secured, for me-ah, as it hath always been-just for me, love. I love thee-I love only thee, oh my, my darling! A prince, prince as thou art, shalt break t'ese weak, ye' icy stones in which I am enveloped-for all th' virtuous akin 'tempts hath all been wan and futile-and melt, melt safely t'is stern heart of mine so I canst cherish love again.

The brandy just as common
With the daughters
Reassuringly following to feed
The right howled lark
Into worn times.
Carry the jean size that you wore in high school
Since the advantage is not forgotten:
Drifting footmen believed manners
Learn prettier face,
But lean into the interrupted light
of another
gun-shooting hurricane on the television.
Indolent raisings are the explanation;
The snort of adolescent judgment dreadfully happens,
And we couldn’t free the dog’s role
Into the
Gently
Busily
Sulkily
… Oh how you’ve been.

A woman called for you today said Max’s wife.
Oh said Max who was she?
She didn’t say Max’s wife replied.
Well dames that don’t leave names
Aren’t worth worrying over Max said
Lighting up a cigarette and sitting
In a chair by the window.
She seemed to know you Max’s wife stated stiffly
Seemed quite put out when I told her I was your wife.
Dames are always put out over something or other
Max said noticing his wife’s beauty spot
And how it moved as she spoke.
She was a brunette.
Ah a brunette huh?
Yes a brunette his wife said.
Well? She said after a minute’s pause.
New York’s full of brunettes.
This one came to the apartment and rang our bell
And stood at the door asking for Max.
There are plenty of men called Max in New York Honey he said
Comparing in his mind his wife and the brunette
He’d met at a bar the other night.
She seemed your type his wife said sulkily
The type that sways her hips and sticks out their ***.
Yes I know the type Max said and sighed
They can never leave me alone.
I tell them I am happily married to the best dame in New York
But they seem not to hear Max said
Watching smoke rise upwards.
Best dame in New York huh? His wife said.
Sure you are he said taking in his wife’s plump ***
Hanging over the side of the chair like melted cheese.
She smiled and said must have been a mistake
On her part coming here and asking for Max.
Sure it was Max said dames sometimes make mistakes
They have no sense of direction.
His wife smiled at him sexily hoping.
Max smiled back and hoped for *******.

SLAP!
The smirk
Slithers,
Slips,
Slides,
from your face.

Your eyes glaze over
Pride is your life boat.

I snap my hand back
Like you are burning.
You don’t deserve my skin.

One last time,
My eyes sweep your face
I am satisfied with my creation.

Your smirk
Slithers,
Slips,
Slides,
Onto my lips.

On the walk home
My chance arises!
You smirk.
And sulkily, I slink away.

Sonya was in a mood
because it was raining
and we were in Paris

the hotel room
looked out
on the Parisian streets
wet and shiny
people passing by

she at the window moody
I on the bed
reading Dostoevsky

we should be out there
she said

well go out there
I said

it's wet
my hair will look terrible
why does it rain
while we're here
on holiday?

maybe the rain didn't know
we were on holiday

funny
she said sulkily

I glanced over at her
standing there
by the open window
arms folded
her red shorts
and pink top
long legs

we can go out
once it stops

I want to go out now
she turned
and stared at me
how can you read a book
at a time like this?
and a Russian book too

it's about a guy
who murders
a couple of women
I said

and I’m supposed to care?
she looked at the streets again
hissing at the rain

the book takes you
right there
makes you feel
like you witnessed
the murders
like some snoop

**** the rain
she said

when I read
Solzhenitsyn's book
about a day
in a labour camp
in Russian's cold
and snow and such
I felt I was actually there
I said

she leaned out the window
and put one
of her hands out
think it's stopping

I felt I knew
the main character
in the novel
like an old friend

I want to go out now
she said

I closed the book
and sat
on the side of the bed

she came away
from the window
arms still folded
eyes blue and stern
and hair fixed
into a blonde
pony tail

we had good ***
the night before
but that's
another tale.

Yesterday was okay:
   Food is good; mood is good
The newbies look wired:
  Lauren, he is nervous and pleasantly disturbed by forthright kindness.
  Arthur is slow and engaging and intimate.
  Kate is a little crazy
    She sneaks into the men's house:
    The men tense
    Our eyes move together like magnets
      "Hello." She accepts the challenge with interest.
        "Hello." A Slavic lilt.
    I comment that she mustn't like rules.
      She is overjoyed by this.
    Five minutes later she is caught and saunters sulkily away.
  We are friends.

The old men, we are slower;
  Even our eyes move slower
  We explore the grounds with less hurry:
    They will not move, and we resist the urge to pry their secrets before we have earned them:
     We save their hidden corners like sweets under a pillow:
        Times will come when they are needed; gorge now and starve later.
   For us, time will stay put if we ask it.
     With quiet acceptance we foresee the many moments that lie ahead when we will burn to usher time along.
     A sullen wise old donkey that resists the switch.
     He is our concern. And our fear.

You may become a master of time here.
More likely, you will realise its mastery over you:
Illuminated to a vivid and terrible outline.

You'll find me among the trees running among the trees playing hide and seek,
sparkling wide eyes and eager.

You'll find me behind the rose bushes sulkily hiding my deepest thoughts
with my hair dropped over my eyes.

You'll find me at the sturdy, shady bench under the eucalyptus tree,
being chased by Frances with his arms that sweep me off the ground.

You'll find me at the patchy sunny part of the garden,
where Frances and I love in the grassy fields during the day.

You'll find me faced down here in this grassy field,
with the comfort of a thousand butterflies but no one.

And then I'll find you one day too,
hiding in the shade with your goofy smile and your bald spot
with your beer gut and your odd love for ugly sweaters
here in the garden.

these feelings are abandoned
they look at me sulkily
i shrug and tell them to quit playing
they don't seem to understand what i say
they are persistent, these long lost feelings

they continually haunt me
and faces appear in my mind
i strike a deal with them:
fine, i will build you a home
among these words i write

they will find a home
among these secrets i must keep
whether it's a dream of Rome
or the women i think in sleep
in these dark passages, they roam

so, i quietly bury these feelings
these people i once knew and love
people with whom i don't even confer
their faces show betrayal, demanding an answer
but, in acceptance, they wave goodbye.

perhaps, not forever;
outside, the sun grows by the second.
to get up is to forget.

A poet like me, disdained and condemned by the world,
Disfigured by its face, made sealed and melancholy by my own,
As if today, there is nothing else more temporary than words;
I need to survive while standing on my feet alone.

I dislike mud and earth, unlike them all;
I think death is divine and life is temporal;
But I know not, why others declare it is magnificent;
For it is but a gulf of disgust, made of enemies and no friend.

Once I fell in love, within our last winter; 
I saw him again and again during the rest of November;
He was my Sofian star, across the days of December;
He was the charm of my life, with whom I imagined life together.

He had poems on his tongue, and sweet was his mouth;
While his solemn breath was as smooth as yon farm's berries;
He was ageing, but rich and adequate in his youth;
His songs were as innocent as spring's red cherries.

Ah, but why idyll needed to go, and but sulkily swifted away;
When I was consumed, and only greed was in my chest;
Perhaps as a poet I should have had more to say;
And then, should I have said more, would he have stayed and rested?

He is jailed now, in his own Paris' shrubs and sins;
He is a detached monster too arrogant and mean;
And in that tragic summer he caught the arms of a white lady;
One selfish lady of Paris, the daughter of a plain bourgeois;

A lady with round snowy curls of brown hair;
Which blew like an evil tempest among the winds;
For she cared only for the world's primmest affairs;
She was the most brutal such pious souls have seen.

And to me now, that there is no more reason to be in love;
I shall hibernate 'till else might come and make me laugh;
For yon last one though, this should be his last stanza;
I shall burn his memory by tonight's red fatamorgana;

And run, run, run, my darling, into the rain;
Hope thy wife will defile you and put you into stains.
Perhaps you shall enjoy such delicate years in hell;
Whatever it takes, I wish you good luck and hope all is well.

And let her **** you by a midnight's swords;
When you walk out to watch more feeding swans;
She shall laugh and giggle as you leave these worlds;
She shall grab your purse and quickly hide behind;

And grin over your pulse as it grows weak;
She shall be the last to hear you speak.
But as you die, she shall not hold your hand;
She shall play with the cheeks and hairs of another man.

And let you be buried, buried, buried in my past;
Now you can taste her skin while being filled with lust;
Make her **** you into shreds and lure you into disgrace;
While you think she is the sweetest of all embrace.

What are you reading?
Atara asked.

Book on Schopenhauer,
I said.

Dull reading.

Depends on what you like.

She sipped her coke,
her eyes studying
the cover of the book.
Is that him?

Yes, old photograph.

She looked at me.
Why do you read
such dull books?

Maybe I'm a dull guy.

She smiled.
Not last night.

I closed the book
and laid it
on the table.
I sipped my beer.

Does he talk
about ***?
She asked.

Not that I’ve read
so far.

If a book doesn't mention ***
it isn't worth reading.

Maybe I should read Freud.

Why read?

I looked at the waiter
passing the table,
his clipped moustache,
his deep eyes.  

You read,
I said,
not heavy stuff,
but you do read.

I like my books
like I like my men:
not too deep and fun.

I said nothing
about my books
and women.

She didn't have
the depth
and she taught me
nothing,
although
that session
in the bathroom
had insight.

The way she had it
right down
to a fine art,
the subtleness
of her limbs,
her gyrations,
her lips and tongue.

What now?
She asked.
I fancy a walk
on the beach,
catch some sun.

You go,
I said,
I want to chill out
with a cold beer
and watch life go by.

She pulled a face sulkily,
but went off,
her hips doing
that thing they did
when she was annoyed.

I watched her go,
sipped the beer,
icy cold
like I enjoyed.

Frankie folds
her hankie
into neat

triangles
he watches
how fingers

so nimble
can also
form tight fists

for defence
yet these hands
so often

caress him
bring him on
to the point

Frankie wipes
her thin lips
why are you

looking so
Johnny boy?
She asks him

O nothing
just thinking
(on how she

manages
to hold his
young pecker

so gently)
about what?
He smiles some

boyish smile
bet I know
what's on that

mind of yours
Johnny boy
what is that?

He answers
taking in
her peach like

******* beneath
orange cloth
*** of course

all you think
about's that
no you're wrong

I wasn't
he replies
so what then?

My beauty?
My fine teeth?
My long hair?

Your fingers
how nimble
they perform

simple tasks
(how nimble
caressing

his body
her fingers
running down

his back bone)
you liar
Johnny boy

you're thinking
of that night
we made love

and my hands
potter's hands
brought you up

like fine clay
to the point
of hotness

guess you're right
those fingers
I could ****

each one so
that's enough
Johnny boy

time for school
keep it cool
keep it cool

and they walk
sulkily
to lessons

on history
about war
and bloodshed

but he wants
to make hot
love instead.

Are the boys in?
Benedict asked
no they've gone fishing
with their big brother

Milka said
O right
Benedict said
looking at her

standing there
in her Baby Doll
nightie
best go then

I was going
to the cinema
this afternoon
not sure

if they'll be back
in time
she said
he  looked beyond her

into the kitchen
your mum
not about?
no Dad's

taken her shopping
I’m on my own
she said
gazing at him

want to come in
for coffee or tea
or something?
she asked

no best not
he said
she expressed
disappointment

if your parents
come back
they'll put
two and two

together
and come up
with ***
he said

no they wouldn't
they would think
you'd just come
and were just going

I’ll say you came
for the boys
and had only
just found out

she said
you'd lie to them?
he said
if needs must

she said
needs?
he said
how long

have they been gone?
20 minutes
how long
will they be?

long enough
she said
he looked behind him
at his bike

by the fence
of the field
chickens were pecking
around the barn

I’ll come in
for coffee
he said
she backed in

and he followed
watching her cute ****
swaying before him
take a seat

she said
he sat on a seat
at a large oak table
strong or weak

black or white?
white strong
two sugars
she smiled

and took two mugs
down from a shelf
and prepared the coffee
in both

a radio was playing quietly
in the background
the Kinks
were being played

he noticed
she had nice legs
plumpish but neat
from ankles to ****

she poured water
into both mugs
and dripped in milk
she gave him his

and sat down
gazing at him
we have the house
to ourselves

she said
my bed
lonely upstairs
wanting company

she pouted
and pulled
a baby face  
how comes

your not dressed yet?
I seldom get dressed
till late on Saturdays
unless Mum

has a moan
Milka said
Benedict sipped
his coffee

she sipped hers
we could be doing things
she said
we are doing things

he said
we're drinking our coffees
you know what I mean
she said

he looked
at the wood stove
with logs on the floor
warmth came across

a picture hung
on a wall
by a Welsh dresser
they may not

be back for hours
she said
time enough
he mused on her words

but the image
of her parents
coming back
whilst in play

haunted him
not today
he said
your mother trusts me

Milka frowned
and sipped her coffee
shame she does
Milka said sulkily

a Beatles' song
came on the radio
I could sit on your lap
she said

the door of the kitchen
opened and her mother
came in
with shopping bags

and plonked them
on the table
O hello Benedict
come for the boys?

yes
he said
Milka made me a coffee
while I waited

good girl
she said
but still
in that silly nightie

just as well
Benedict is a good boy
or I don't know
what would have happen

my girl
Milka stared at him
as her mother
put away

the shopping
he looked innocent
as a peach
and knew now

that Milka
was out of touch
and out
of his reach.

FIRST A LITTLE NIBBLE

First a little nibble
of a frayed curtain

then with a gulp
of sheer delight

it began to eat
the new sofa.

First the throw...then:
a checkered cushion

until it had all been
consumed.

It licked the door
wanting to escape

the room wherein
had been born.

Slowly slowly then more
and more

eagerly it
advanced up the stairs

on little flame like feet
before bursting into the bedroom.

It blossomed
It bloomed.

A fire engine tore then night apart
all sirens and lights....sirensandlights.

By dawn the fire had grown
weary of itself

smouldered sulkily.

A child's yellow shoe.

Half a teddy.

. . .lay at the fireman's feet.

FIRST A LITTLE NIBBLE

First a little nibble
of a frayed curtain

then with a gulp
of sheer delight

it began to eat
the new sofa.

First the throw...then:
a checkered cushion

until it had all been
consumed.

It licked the door
wanting to escape

the room wherein
it had been born.

Slowly slowly then more
and more

eagerly it
advanced up the stairs

on little flame like feet
before bursting into the bedroom.

It blossomed
It bloomed.

A fire engine tore the night apart
all sirens and lights....sirensandlights.

By dawn the fire had grown
weary of itself

smouldered sulkily.

A child's yellow shoe.

Half a teddy.

. . .lay at the fireman's feet.

I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
Quite apparently,
Quite before you had arrived.

On a plain summer afternoon,
While the world outside lagged a little,
I was resting on the chair, slackly as ever,
With my fingers holding their cup of tea.
The white curtains of the window swung a little,
It swayed left to right and towards me and back,
passing a gentle breeze slightly across my eyes.
I unhitched the door and opened the gate.
The sky on the left was darker than the right.
I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
Quite before you had arrived.

The sunlight battled to breathe,
But each time you crumpled it away.
Confused I stood,
Starring the fight between the yellow and the grey.
The dust rose high and hit my eye.
For a moment, I felt blind.
Yet, I sensed your coming,
I knew your being,
This time, in a certain way.

Drop. And another. And another,
I saw you drizzle,
Glorious and divine.
Sulkily though, I waited for you.
For I sensed your coming the ugly way.

Rightly so,
You grew big and mighty.
Wild and intense.
The windowpanes began to hit against the wall hard,
You took away the light such,
that the candle refused to glow in dark.
The trees tried hard,
to keep up still, to keep up just.
You but shattered few till last.

And yet, I grieved when you left.
In joy and in pain,
In peace and in rage,
I craved you more and didn't want at all.
You were a beautiful happening,
You were a scary venture.
On a plain summer afternoon,
You were the rain.