Sunday, 2 August 2015

1 New Poem

Three Pence

Copper coin shimmer lines speckle-spatter
along well-wishers banks beneath
Islington's club gig smoke for the
name of some 90s indie band,
none could exactly remember,
none could quite forget.

I glow, untrammeled, haloing
Primark dress shirts in black light,
but for shock of uncertain divisions

the lack I am of figures assured,
neither Chancellor nor another great
figure a state one day sets in bronze.

For promises of rock & roll America,
places wild of youth, ease, never did
a single stroke for cold running hands

answered what I'd give for touch:
oceanic deliverance, partial to your
frame, shaking, waiting maiden memorial fantasy,
as you tame-keeper wilderness of telescopic time.


what once there was to gain,
now lost for want of a three penny nail.

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