5


The bus promised Hardy country
Slow and dirty, faintly melancholy
With the abandoned air of all public things

Distant views across also possible
Drifts of time and vapour allowing
But never a visit:

The buses stopped before the heights
And you were lost in a dirty town
Returning always to the familiar haunts

The nearer edge is the safer
Can't undo what is cut, not cut except
Nightmare fantasies.

Going back to the familiar green world
Beyond the familiar green places
That aren't the world but a world

Haphazard and torn, unconvincing
And boring as posters in buses
With the abandoned air of all public things