from where
a voice of great purity it
sometimes descends
the cashpoint queue
a shield of
water reflecting the clouds
it's as if you were stepping over
the shallow face of a god
their business it is to be out
there's the girl with the copper hair
a barrenness of waiting buds
silence — it's just before the explosion
his life carefully balanced
like the hat on his head
Lower Clapton Road
So it came
to this poor ground
Maybe there are quite different bits of you
Climbing from one to the other
And something else lights up —
It climbs itself and
Here it is
Its arms spread wide
Walking the
Self, a history
And 'here', it is is simply
The way its breath divides the air
A cool arch
instep
The words collect in
As if as if as if
I will walk slowly back in there
Anxious not to disturb the dust —
The differing bits of 'you'
Are all the silences inside
That feeling of overpowering strangeness
It was like a perverse gift
Is it a child
Wondering if he's special?
Troubled ecstasy of the self
Ek stasis is standing outside?
But who was the stranger at the door
London in a blaze behind me
Blitz recalled in a dream
Dreamt more than fifty years ago?
There is nothing fixed in your eye
A shadow that prints itself
Leans forward into it the amazing flesh