Thursday 29 October 2020

In Derbyshire

In Derbyshire the sound did rush

by parody that power 

and its quietus made exquisite

workmen reeled the whole orchestra

touches property to self-defense 

the front door said the roof is lost

and the day is wet, 

to give up and to be given

into grit pain on the beach

towel pavement to inspect

to bring closer dying 

they never crease to show

they've never went in the face

yet living and you don't

always get what you want 

living plenty til empty 

our friends crowding to the 

blood-banks gel ringed against 

a city our skin is to pacify rags 

taste of dogs filial pathos 

like a fence line defending us 

from that fridge-freezer incinerator 

you that air cavity ran up

by smoke the exhaust sparks

to blares fire fed us as we inlay

the empires water frame