no solo, oh no, oh it’s me
(into the outer reaches)

a symphony of sausages
and 12 mouth watering Irish potato breakfasts
delay

 

my gratification
it’s all about
moving through the transient steamed pudding verities of time

 

somewhere over the underland
at least
until one of those ridiculous American multiple life sentences

 

(I have written many of them in more egregious moments)
finally
collapses into

 

a mystery
composition
no audiophile could deriddle

 

of course it was the first
replete with
horns, Brahms honouring Cambridge whose honorary doctorate he declined

 

that turned me on and on and then
expanded
from there

 

but
grew
no further