nasally broad
like she had the sniff of messiah
sugary
or flared
and chords from every tip or physical anchor
a genetic gluing
of hands
so sure
so certain of sign of maze of nose,
he's open
I don't dare hide myself after all
where feelings is a cane
and responses is working without water
'trying to make the pay-cheque go further'
no, not funny, look how I'm
not funny, keen mebbe, open.
Plain white eyes in burned body open
'since Thou hast seen me Lord'
not worth hiding
me she kid and nothing more.
the little
speckled
bun-faced kid centre
is Elvis
(Alvis 'the all-wise')
The impression is one of trust.
Now what keep who?
Like this mud town.
They embark.
C'mon, son, yu cin reach that pedal?
She
the arch
the entry

behind is the indian
the bronze-red
heat of wealth