if you don’t any whosoever know
what it’s worth
why monitor so cautiously the flow
in the (Forth, of) Firth
rambunctiously wondering as you go
whatever the hell’s the truth of Rimbaud?


around the curve of the rim with a wish
and a will of a fish
with a wink a nod
and a purse-net full of cod
and the way the whole of things works out
in your breech-clout
along the way of things generally
and the way of life venereally

III. Bites and Bams

lintel I leaned against gone
a comic fall
head over heels
an apartment door open
in the night of the city
in the pond of the night
of the city in the apartment
heels over head
rising tragically
against the day of its coming