Second Childhood

April 24, 2018

Learning’s a regress of letting-goes

Windows on which you painted so

Your heart’s-loves scried by accidents you’d hung your coat on

To harbour fast against the bays of time

Cloakrooms which in their normal way have vaguely tended

To do to you some good, you threw down leisurely

Your hat in, ordered beer, a bed, inventory

Casting up all as needle’s eyelets threaded in

Your quest for home

Marking out all around you, building on switched faiths

Bidding up vestures emptors would deny you, try you under,

A steeled cement common consent affirms you, holds the pin

The ageing years without intent with tears unfolds you

Into another sphere

Daily the dainties plush, peerless in bloom win your back yard

Succumbed to a colder coming shrink from umbilical ripeness

Wizened divisions appear, adhere, no bull of shine might burnish

Nor furnish sign, nor your heart divine, nor put it into language

A brute appeal

Endless foregoings relinquishments, redundant serial candies

No prop, no, nor no candidate, nor self-reliant ballast

Stuck on the belly’s insides the devoured full breakfast plate;

Empty, aware of having been, and something-seemed, ingrate

And hearty profligate

Consumed contentment burns and turns a fire inside you

Coals shovel round, astound, break down, and ash impounds you

Rigid cement, past late event, of youthful fixture palls

Crack upon crack conjures adamant a structure in duress

As an evening crazy press

Of sonar peoples homes upon fleet echoes from success

Fare inbound somewhere, transit undue haste’s cathartic work

Following statics, musics, zestings; the pendulum humdrum

Ignorance snakes and skirts the noun sought purposively

Nose passes by

Put to you, your view, the humid peppered music’s stopped

A suit of silence clothes you; ears’ raiment of serge,

Weighty material sombre giving countenance whoso

Might face a face; outface his station’s Waterloo -

Caught on conviction

A turn, a new direction; cumbrous freight cars murmur thunder

Passing a crossing shaking numbers waiting in the roads

Humbling of power, authority claims the destination taken

Laden, enthralled, the magic is the train

Over the land earth tremors, lights go flicker, windows burr,

Similar murders fell as resolutely on a quavered earth

Versed in the death of God gone twenty hundred years when tore

Larger in power percussionings hewn steelier tracks to score

And fashion

Lord of the summer dreams, the springtime fancy’s pleasures

Over the yew tree shelters younglings, droops benign,

Older and broader, stout as standard, beautifully becoming,

Bearer of blood which red runs weeping handsomely sad tears;

The sorry dead receive

Let it be such a letting-go assent to surety

Giving up to the ghost full host of formless formulation

Certitudes’ fortifications, ameliorations, the infamous fair hedge

To a panic-attack pare back, bare to a nearest plainness;

Arrival abides with God’s approved abundance