When You're Working Well, You Don't Do

I Knew He Was Unreliable, But He Was Fun To Be With. He Was A Child’s Ideal Companion, Full Of Surprises And Happy Animal Energy. He Enjoyed Food And Drink. He Liked To Try New Things. He Brought Home Coconuts, Papayas, Mangoes, And Urged Them On Our Reluctant Conservative Selves. On Sundays He Liked To Discover New Places, Take Us On Endless Bus Or Trolley Rides To Some New Park Or Beach He Knew About. He Always Counseled Daring, In Whatever Situation, The Courage To Test The Unknown, An Instruction That Was Thematically In Opposition To My Mother’s.

Banks And Churches And Courtrooms All Depend On The Appurtenances Of Theatre. On Illusion. Banks, The Illusion Of Stability And Honourable Dealings To The Rot And Corruption Of Capitalist Exploitation. Churches The Illusion Of Sacred Sanctuary Of Purposes Of Pacifying Social Discontent. Courtrooms Of Course Designed To Promote The Illusion Of Solemn Justice. If There Was True Justice Why Would Such Trappings Be Necessary? Wouldn't A Table And Chairs And An Ordinary Room Serve Just As Well?

Someone Dying Asks If There Is Life After Death. Yes, Comes The Answer, Only Not Yours.

The Poem Is A Cry Of The Unborn Heart. Yes, Because The Poem Perfectly Embodies The World, There Is No World Without Poem.

It Is The Immigrant Hordes Who Keep This Country Alive, The Waves Of Them Arriving Year After Year.... Who Believes In America More Than The People Who Run Down The Gangplank And Kiss The Ground?