All my knowledge of death is allied to the life-science
All my knowledge of life is allied to the death-science
All my sickness becomes health
All my poorness becomes wealth
In the car-park Embarcation Waiting
Car doors slam with rifleshot precision
I am wounded
Engine purrs with sensuous warm injection
The whistle echoes back and forth from the lamp-poles
And the feet march, well-heeled clicking souls
Later on the train
Her sensuous hand reaches out to present the ticket and
The fingers curl gracefully back to grasp it again
Another woman stands, poised like a lion
Whilst in my, mind
The page-three tits from the newspaper rack superimpose themselves upon her
Should I feel guilty about this politically incorrect perception?
Lust allied to the death-science throws images at me
Cold, frozen the puckered fanny in my friend’s porno-mag Though he was ripped off:
There was a sign saying “NO BROWSERS”
And he bought it
With half the sexy bits censored!

The sky hung over the rooftops
Like an enamelled bowl
I will remember past lives,
I will remember
And to see you again –
In the yellow touch of spring