Ancient Egyptians put to proof,
Along the never-ending Nile,
The virtues of the old shadoof
And plied the same in fulcrum style.
The Bronze Age engineer, no goof,
Would fix the counterpoint with care,
As though he ran the warp and woof
Of water by a shuttle there.
Rock on, rock on, you old shadoof,
Your bucket full, your balance true!
Five thousand years to man’s behoof:
For all the world as good as new.
—————
A Seashell Sings the voice of a client
The British Virgin Islands lie
Aloof from corporation tax.
Particulars they don’t supply:
Their purpose is to cover tracks.
And just 400,000 strong,
The companies that there abide!
To that brave host I too belong
And offshorewise, review the tide.
Adoptive sands! Adoptive foam!
Adoptive guardians to me!
I wouldn’t change my second home
For all the plastic in the sea.
—————
Abandoned Snooker Table
Pale with age, its green baize almost grey
Under the hanging lamps, the table rides
The shadows of the lost hotel and guides
The light to fingerprints of ancient play.
Beyond the crumbling sash the moon’s in balk,
High in the summer trees. The night awaits
An outcome as the ghost deliberates…
Slow trimming of a tip with sky-blue chalk.
And then the dark manoeuvre’s under way,
The hand-made viaduct, the dreaming arm
That executes its vision, plays the shot.
For here they lived and died, endured dismay
Or tasted triumph; kissed a lucky charm
Or clocked the bad unravelling of the plot.
—————
Slow Train
Slowly the slow train pulls away
To run beside the river bed
With everything I long to say
To people who are long since dead.
—————
Welcome to the Expatriate Community
I see you’re reading a book. You must be new here.
Of course there’s nothing wrong with reading, exactly.
It’s just it isn’t really what people do here,
And if you’ll forgive me for putting it matter-of-factly,
Cut it out. Let me give you a tiny clue here
Concerning what’s acceptable and what’s not: No one will mind if you die. It’s what people do here,
Sometimes quite a lot of us on the trot.
And being a crook’s OK. We’ve had one or two here –
In fact, come to think of it, we’ve had quite a few here –
They tend to be highly regarded for knowing what’s what
And wielding political clout. Though one of them got
Rather beyond himself and had to be shot,
So unpleasantness can’t be avoided. It’s what people do here
When they feel it’s time for a change in the old top slot.
You’re reading a book. We’d rather you did not.
—————
Drink So Much Whiskey I Stagger When I’m Sleep
Sometimes nothing would do
but the jug band from the swamp
stomping the dirt road
down the bayou
grunting bass and wailing mouth-harp
chain-gang holler and low moon riding
the cypress trees
hauling along that long-time sorrow
crying out in that strange joy
sometimes nothing else
could hope to bring it home
Contents List
1 13 Namesake
15 A Pub Wall in 1974
16 One Item or Less
19 The Art of Adolf Hitler
20 The Ambition of Joe Aiello, Or The Fifty-Nine Slugs
23 Shadoof
24 Birch
25 The Bird Itself
26 Creation Song of Westgate
35 Halfway Round the Golf Course
36 At the Walter Pater Hogroast
37 Guest House Threats
39 Dead Bullet
40 Down the Grove
42 The Spirit of Alfred Tennyson Suddenly Rounds on Ezra Pound
43 Las Cabras Son Malas
44 A Seashell Sings
45 The Forsaken Hero
46 Arrival of the Butcher’s Van in the School Drive
48 The Migraine Show
49 The Witch’s Tongue
52 Arthur Spark Steps Out in the Cause of Science
53 Gordon and Walter Press Their Suits in Vain
56 Welcome to the Expatriate Community
2
59 Slow Train
60 Torpedo Path
77 Abandoned Snooker Table
78 Bookeries
79 A Night on the Tiles
81 The Eyes of Mr Silverman
83 Rat-Rhymes for Unfamiliars
85 A Sentimental Education
86 Just Before the Ruination
87 The Gulls
88 Dancing to ‘Slough’
89 Last Chorus
90 Caneback: A Phantasmagoria
92 St Bernard and the Blackbird
93 Drink So Much Whiskey I Stagger When I’m Sleep
