Poem In Thanks

Surveyor, seeker, poet of the sound, you love nothing more than these monkeys aswing in the trees. And carefree you hand out fifties like chump-change to the needy, though your bank book’s a graveyard: filled with dust and hope. Yet your eyes are a mother hen’s and a fighting cock’s. Plus that voice: wind-from-the-reeds, oracular. […]