97th Chorus

Meanwhile there’s my Pa, alone in street,
Coming for supper, under heaven bleak
The trees of March black twigs
Against the red & gory sundown
That blazed across the River
sinking in the ocean to the East
beyond Salisbury’s latest & last
grain of sand,
Then all’s wet underneath, to Eclipse
(Ivan the Heaven Sea-Ice King, Euclid,
Bloody Be Jupiter, Nucleus,
Nuclid, What’s-His-Name – the sea
The sea-drang Scholar with mermaids,
Bloody blasted dadflap thorn it
-N e p p y T u n e - )
All’s wet clear to Neptune’s Seat.
Sensing the aura, the news
Of that frost, my father
Hurries in his Woe-Street
Conscious he is a man
Doomed to mortal destiny.
“And my poor lil Ti Pousse,”
he thinks of me,
“He’ll get it too.”