'There is nobody here but us chickens'

                  when Haydn
                         went to Slough
                                to see the stars
                       he tinkered with creation
                               & explored certain
                    new yoga positions
                  Feed Wrong End of Dog
                       Wash Foot in Caravan Sink
                                  &  Kick-start the Transit

        but in the western ghats
                  we watch cloud goats
                & listen to the notes
                      almost turning
                                              into solid air
                                we steel
                  but not for long
              sleep-spindles point
                      towards a club
           where you can go
                      to be yourself
                        or sit & knit
            some little coats for chickens
                                   the bones & mortar
                 will turn to beige paste
                                & thick bars rust

Norfolk         February 2009