ears on trumpets hill a maggots foot
hear not the breath that dwarfs my christened heel
for the scoundrel of the bug and bee not treasure lust
but thrusts as stars of plankton through my bolted ears
as distant as her fingers from my shield
the shielding wood where hides the cryptic chapter
to find to bury homeless in a clue;
the trees to shoulder arms beyond rhetoric
stuffed bulls-horn marching mayhem through my torso\'s lie
clamps suspect creed with handcuffs bald as osprey
still father to the urchin\'s flavoured mother-goose of lime
still as distant as her fingers from my shield
her sun as bright as I am dull as noose-kiss
flying jack-boot through the sinus of my tree;
I am here with guilt half century of torment
rising with the morning sun
to turn and greet your dawn
the chapel rests your sleep as I embark unspoken word
through chapters sixteen pages past your heart-strings
I have no ears for love to drown tomorrow
just a heart to trace your footsteps to the storm;