e gorse gully and yellow flowers,
black seed-pods bursting in the summer
heat. Down you went past broken
bottled glass to the untouched cool
clay hoping any moment to pot hole up
into a paddy field through the
earths centre. Every failed dig
stayed a secret from adults, forever.

13. Eco-Tourism

Welcome to Smeltback Inc.
copper, zinc, lead, uranium, iron,
O mineral gardens of the Inland Sea!
A company satellite tremulous as
a divining-rod maps onto flow charts
corporate terrain; prospectus
for all the kingdoms of the earth.
Radio Redneck pumps the poet
who banks safe on a right-wing bet,
steadies to subvert the norm
for God and Clever Countrys sake.
Prettily thus he underbends the knee
to throw his best foot forward O.

Generation of 68

Frank OHara (here Im skating slow
on sacred ice) has got a lot to answer
for, yet who hasnt? Take the legacy
of 60s poets, for example, who cant
help but write like him; syntactically
careering around his blizzard of words,
elbow-jolting crazily, clutching at
each others earmuffs, buttonholing
opportunity. Seems they did that as
par for the course till it got too dizzy.
Round and round the freedom rink they
went & those who zigzagged quick & cut
up rough fell back upon the railings
youth exhausted to exhale worn, cautious
success though tried not to show it.
What happened to the stragglers in the
maul is anyones guess; some unmarried,
a good number courted hardship whatever.
Nobody cares overly much. The 60s poets
they go on to write like Frank OHara:
fewer drop-by parties, meaner somehow.

Pat Boone & Tonto

White-shirted (not blue)
they approach in twos:
Excuse me Sir, a small
moment of your time?
Soft-selling eternity &
the clean-cut hereafter.
The boyish accent downloads
the serious side of the
American dream, eyes fixed
computer bright. The other
is slower, slope-shouldered
& discipled, backgrounded
by a blandished brain.
As a child, when the God
was always friendly,
big as a house, long as a
street & the day endless,
the knock upon the door
signalled: Excuse me
young man, is the lady of
the house in? Welcome
the suitcased salesman; the
Bon-Brush Man: big-bristled,
wooden-backed scrubbing
& bottle brushes, sandsoap
& Brasso for hard domestic
usage. Not now. These two
modern peddlers head out
to the brick bungalows of
the inner city suburbs
selling the Light & the Way,
galloping round the outer
handicapped districts;
brainw