Look at the faint rain twisting
itself into the ground,
making dry things resign themselves
to different states of damp.

Nothing I can tell you to answer your question —
      all I can muster is that
it was that production of King Lear, Edgar emerging

O celebrated bard, you should know
espresso mixed with drags of Gauloise
won’t steady your head.

Much like a burnt-out farmer flumping down
upon his ache-allaying, tender bed

Each year we climbed to that place high above the ruins.

People came to find out what ‘Garage Sale’ meant
in a small village landlocked county early burning comet tail
of Thatcher’s Britain.

a cowboy is that split second of doubt between victim 
and victor, quick whipcrack out the corner of the mouth,

I’m nineteen, I’m ancient.
I am so hungover
one of my eyes has fallen out…