so much nuts then
to the zeitgeist & minutes
of kitchen conferences
all down the ages.
or whether or not
if they heard all
they might hear is
how lonely it is.
Burned out in Washington,
bombed out in Shankhill.
It all burns o my brothers
all but a few words
we’ve sent off the planet
in our famous address
to the nowhere.
I would be content
to get one word through
as I hone & seal them
to open their boxes
& live in some other place
starting bank accounts
passports, party cards,
going down to the postbox,
getting sick, screaming.
But just one thing
before I go back
to the ribbed ancient life
of the ferns let me
hear you sometimes
as often your journey
permits it
laughing.