Such trying through love.




                                I was taken to the alms house,
                                a poor, a gentle town mouse,
                                where the trinity glows,
                                what cost, this peace in the groves?


                                He gave her a voice,
                                through the pain of labour
                                and the blood of existence.


                                Throw me that can of peaches,
                                the fire is still warm.


                                Any day now,
                                they will raise a bus shelter,
                                to this sweet thane
                                and hitch-hikers, cosmic bikers,
                                will undo all the gain.


                                This coke, this bullet,
                                is dying to make you love;
                                the sounding brass,
                                tinkling, water gold wheel,
                                turns in the wind.


                                An Eagle has come home,
                                the mice will be counting the corn.



                                                                                        ~