I watch bugs and am alive
When the dog checks —
With a novel in my lap,
With strings set low on radio,
With cutlery storming in the hands
Of my elusive neighbour.
They eat salad, I suppose,
For it’s a day for beetroot,
For it’s a day for fixing bikes
And sipping beer from Japan.
What else shall we jaw on? Art?
Who has the darkest, blackest blacks?
Friend, the fact is law.
Anish Kapoor exposed the void and
At the Hayward Gallery I saw
It stare like a dog (mine)
Settled in hot shadow (mine also).
Life, uh, finds a way
Despite being the leading cause of death.
Life begets life begets… well, the stuff
That oozes in my dry garden
And Uluru, my seat of power.
Thank you, novel in my lap.
Thank you, bell about to chime.
