UNIFORM OF A POET         83




thin and wasted
fragile and pale
dressed, spiked in black
stand on street corners
speaking of war
the only deterrent
antisocial conscience
deaths and lovers
consider a flower
in countries of  mind
bitter and afraid
memories and feelings
snowfilled fields
with a moon or two
perhaps the odd lilac
the female visions
sarcastic critics, fifty pence books
last week's laughter
rain on monday morning
everyone's personal fear
black coffee perfume
days spent hungry
nicotine in greasy hair
hitting the typewriter
is anyone listening?
do you really want them to ?
deadlines beneath the eyes
zen humour 
taking the piss out of god
the whole of creation
desperate imagination
thought immolation
the clichés ring true
but there's beauty in truth
a poem is a magic spell
and the uniform a changing eternity.