The man went over the mountain.
He carried a three leafed flower in a pot.
The first woman he met was a milliner,
“I haven't seen this flower before,” she said “can I have a leaf?”
“Yappo” said the man, and walked on.
The man went over the mountain.
He carried a three leafed flower in a pot.
The next man he met was a Chef,
“I haven't seen that flower before, can I have a leaf?”
“Yappo” said the man, and walked on.
The man grew tired and sat,
A dog walked up to the potted flower and thought,
“I haven't seen that flower before – woof!”
The man looked at the dog and said
“Yappo”
The man walked on through the days, through the nights,
Whispering, “Yappo”,
“Yappo”.
Finally he reached the sea and sat on a rock.
A mermaid appeared and noticed his flower and said
“I have not seen that flower before.”
“Yappo” said the man and returned whence he came.
The man was heard returning to the town,
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
At the gates he was stopped and asked for his flower,
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
They took the flower from his hands, and sent him on his way.
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
“Yappo”
At first his head faced the ground.
Then he raised his head just a bit.
His back, soon straight -
Then his eyes took in the sky!
And whispering “Yappo” went back over the mountain.
The three leafed flower in a pot
Wilted, the following day.
***
1
These times,
Please take imagination from me.
I know nothing about music.
But I conduct, tender, and specific, and beyond myself.
A theme -
That spells your name.
2
Clear to me? And still?
This reverse dawn. This long day.
And feet worn. The days
Dust settled and new formed
Here.
Back to the tower child.
Back to the stories.
Was I ever without them?
Have I sheltered them too long?
***
The hippopotamus trailing
Under the sun,
Pulls its long lazy mouth:
The sun-squashed-disc sun,
Pancake sun.
River clouds circle her feet,
Honey her ashen feet.
‘It’s been a long day –
Surh Surh Sure’
The flies dance around her mouth.
The smell of her mouth,
Her rolling tongue,
The desert spills into it,
The horizon is her dinner.
The days thoughts
Swish swash roll:
‘Again, tomorrow, then’
In her closed mouth the
Sun is in bed.
Her mouth closed and
She is a grey cloud against
The sky
‘Surh surh sure’
***
Sitting in Shakespeare’s Weeping Church:
The warp of wood.
Pocket tiny chairs. Soft mats and
Green blocks of bible.
Dark wood; it’s grains softening
Molecular, like autumn sunlight
Turned to solid.
The time is for reflection.
The time is for hiding.
And thinking back.
To try and wash the fear
Away coming here.
Isn’t it?
To ready.
To ready, and be gone?
***
Screaming
‘Love you papa bye bye’
‘I LOVE YOU’
Have a good time.
Be careful.
Echoing her mother
“Have a good time
Be careful.”
And Nanny loves you.
‘I love Nanny too’
Get in the car, Sasha.
Andrew, take Sasha by the hand.
‘Run to Daddy’
Sunshinesmacksthroughtreesinhackney
Cardoorshut
Mominsidedoorlocked
Dancingboyinthesun
Firstrayofsuntodayasitsets
Typical.
Sashaisasong
singingkeepthelove.
12-05-10
