POLITICAL ACTIVISM

steel blue sky/bright white clouds 
glo benevolent 
and 
neatly nuclear.


winter sun's walking low
even
at 10 and 11 AM/shadows slide sideways at 45 degrees.


beautiful day for a STRIKE.


i lay in till darks late smudge lays on a different globe
and
go
for brunch in the corner cafe.


i read of
concentration camp captives
stumbling out to see the sun set like a Durer water colour
thru
the 
tall
trees
of the Bavarian woods or over the mountains of Salzburg;
makes
my
coffee
taste of freedom and the Magic FM MOR sweet cliches
ring
true
like angels lost in perpetual contemplation of an infinite glory.

smoking in the cemetery winters autumn browns burst
vivid and varied - FIRE before
natures
short and naked 
necessary 
death.


by a new brown wood bench
i pick up a fallen vase/stand it straight 
place its blooms
back
inside/dont read the names on the plinth or the plaque


because


i


got


a


great empty field to cross/where i stop and crouch SURE
i
can
see
the
CURVATURE OF THE EARTH bending the cricket crease away


and


i


got


to get in/got


things


to


WRITE/but i stop in the corner shop and ask why they dont sell Hula Hoops any more?


MISS EATING THEM OFF YOUR FINGERS? she asks.
MISS HIDING SMALL BITS OF CHEESE IN THE HOLES i say.


in i open all the dusty doors and wonky windows
and
write
about
my doctors 
when 
i should be on the picket line
waving 
a large placard
for
1000 angry reasons . . .