I met a traveller from an antique land, The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed, Sneer of cold command, Chartered streets ... where the chartered Thames does flow, Mind forged manacles, Mark in every face I meet / Marks of weakness, marks of woe, Proud of his skill, Grim shape towered up between me and the stars, Huge and mighty forms ... were a trouble to my dreams, She had a heart - ... to soon made glad, She liked whate'er she looked on, and her looks went everywhere, I gave commands; / Then all smiles stopped altogether, Someone had blundered, Theirs not to make reply / Theirs not to reason why / Theirs but to do and die, Honour the Light Brigade / Honour the charge they made! / Noble six hundred, Our brains ache, in the merciless iced east winds that knife us, Dawn masking ... her melancholy army, All their eyes are ice / But nothing happens, We are prepared: we build our houses squat / Sink walls in a rock / roof with a good state, We just sit tight while wind dives / and strafes invisibly ... space is a salvo, Strange it is a huge nothing that we fear, Suddenly he awoke and was running, King, honour, human dignity, etcetera / dropped like luxuries, His terror's touchy dynamite, On another occasion, we were set out / to tackle looters raiding a bank, Probably armed, possibly not, I swear I see every round as it rips through his life -, Sellotape bandaged around my hand, Released a song bird from its cage / later a single dove flew down from the pear tree, Your playground voice catching in the wind, Spools of suffering set out in ordered rows, The reader's eyeballs prick / with tears between the bath and pre lunch beers, Belfast, Beirut, Phnom. All flesh is grass., Pages smoothed and stroked and turned, Paper ... could alter things, Fine slips ... might fly our lives like paper kites, There was once a country / My memory of it is sunlight clear, But I am branded by the impression of sunlight, My shadow falls as evidence of sunlight, Dem tell me / what dem want to tell me, Bandage up me eye ... Blind me to me own identity, But now I checking out me own identity ... I carving out me identity, A shaven head / full of powerful incantations, Little fishing boats / strung out like bunting / on a green blue translucent sea, As though he no longer existed ... He must have wondered / which was the better way to die,

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