74
The glad in looking may turn to drowning
Mightn’t myself, moved by the good news
Get on to Belfast?
Dark shares this message happily then
but it shoves the blackened book where
It won’t be easily found.
Then knocking around and fitting a quick touch,
And we regain our good name
And swagger away with our eyes turned back
And our breath taken down.
1 comment:
hullo, mike! thanks very much for your kind comments - really lovely to know you love that big wild kerouac mind too...
your sketches are wonderful - full of whimsy and wryness. thanks for sharing!
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