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To an Englishman

Stephan



An ancient giant – (full) head down to earth

Feet are still and quiet – Asian tapestry

Is your trousers, your colours, your grid

Sitting in sensation – breathing steadiness

Even though your eye’s miasmic

Your letters hardly haha homes of infidelity



An ancient god – you swear to your swing

But it’s not that

Which makes you dance?

A Sheepish Thing

Comes up, lingers on your

Cheek, Charlie – chow-ciao chances

To unchanged deviance, mark

Make me insomniac by not counting

Nature by numbers

I understand that you have posted.


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