Aesthete
adrift on the couch
I spot a ship
my Chinese hat
a peasant’s handiwork
upon a ledge
the crown is a prow
breasting the waves
the brim a curve
curving seawards
Oh a ship
is a beautiful thing
even when at rest
dreaming of the open sea
Proust
the only paradise
according to Proust
is paradise lost
perhaps so
but one can always
read Proust
Metaphysical Marv
do not be angry
I still pursue
the noblest man
is mainly water
and like that stream
by whose side
we lipped away
a lazy summer
my course is set
we both must follow
the lay of the land
you came to me
and said quietly
I am all alone
no I replied
you are not alone
and you gave
a little cry
that haunts me still
like an echo
of an echo from
a far-off hill
