poets are not buried where you are taught /

they are hungry hands digging out

do not expect to see a poet’s heart

when you dream lungs are aubergines / that aubergines have potatoes for roots

one beats in you

fear / does not keep a poet’s heart away

fear not

it leaves                                      soon

you  wanting                                       again

you knowing                                    nothing


and also

one line carved on stone

can lift an entire cathedral / high enough to pierce the damp

of even Britain’s heavy angel

or a few typed on pink paper can be what you carry out /

when firemen come and cats / need to be saved

or a certain booted toe imprinted in cement /can tweak your heart every time

you see it asking a different question /

you cannot help / but answer