Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow
Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift,
Or whilst I can vent clamor from my throat,
I’ll tell thee thou dost evil.
We are born, we get married, we divorce, we die. But somewhere along the way, if we get the chance, we should also stand Liberal Candidate for the ancient fishing and weaving constituency of Gulworth North situated in the remoter fens of East Anglia in the unlit post war years before television replaced the Temperance Hall, and communications were such that a man’s character could be born again by removing it a hundred and fifty miles north-east of London.
Passing in the night:
trees and buildings;
hearing the lonely howls of engines
and guitars and voices commingling.
Getting high on coffee and South San Gabriel,
and passing peaceful towns with their own problems.
There is an undercurrent
of unity in this world.
It runs through the earth
like a seam through a coat.
The handwork is evident.
making His mark,
made for Him.
It is accounted, that after he took his shoes off,
that he hedged himself about with excuses
on why he should not go.
Could you have a sparkling
conversation with such a Fire?
Or would It burn all away, and
leave you, too, with nothing but
“For the bush that Moses saw
burned and yet was not consumed.”