great coat striding
i wear
i want to
bleak ladders yellow
telling i can use
climbing like an assured
squirm down
some selfish bugger
smoking in the public place
poisoning the rest of us
at least my nasty habit
no throw slugs into fans
if i were an expert
i’d know to use
but i’m not
so i’m
the vision tells
my ray eyes show me
goals
plainly set
to half obey
in reality
my socks fall down
from the county shack detest
that is yesterday’s mirror
from the instrument
of the last
the pitch of the cello
the colour of machinery
but what else is cello
a surprise urgence
interferes
now that’s where i sit
i anticipate a night
punching this expressive art
being pushed
being not merely watching
a performance for miserly days
goals
plainly set out
to half obey