LOVE LETTER TO THE NATIONAL IMAGINARY

Engerland uber alles including Scotland Wales and Ireland
and the rest of the world (and Germany as well)
such petty nationalisms which
diminish our humankind
are not for me          life
on the planet is already precarité itself without the hate
and me with a pain in my back the size of a continent
dazed by love as ever
and the sun-blinding light of summer
with tiny white flowers starred along the roadside
despite the drought
here in France for the craic
in an entirely different language
(God how I love Joyce)
and what is the cost of love
but it we calculate everything
we shall have nothing and of course
(with time you can't buy)
I'ld like to think I would do it all again