Four Poems

'Under the world's wild rims. . .'

Under the world's wild rims
Five hundred glass skylights, a double row,
Watched me, across the canal,
Halfway to school.

A thousand green skylights
Guarded a sacked tomb.

In submarine twilight, boots hushed
Ankle-deep through volcanic talc
Kicking up magical steel objects
For futuristic knobkerries.

Lifelines poured into wagepackets
Had leaked a warm horror, like Pompei,
Into that worn-out, silent dust.

Vandal plumes of willow-herb
Desecrated the mounds-
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