ON HE GOES . . .

the early winter
sun
shines
on
rain stains

and how sadly . . .

belt up poet!  jessssus

wot about the wars and the bomb children
that
fell
off
the
front
pages?

wot about the relentless bash and thump of mornings
that
get
in
you
without
permission?

wot of the illusions you MUST hold true
or
else
all
is
a
real
hard 
nothing?

not more sad sun/more autumn nostalgia

time
to
put 
your
balls in the fire again