You could feel a passion for invisibility: to be a fly on the wall,
the pitcher's ear, the child in the corner
with his eyes closed: you could grow fat on that, full of years.

With a great scuffle,
the meeting adjourned.
Calm turned to storm.

Scrawling the letters of my name,
I found and changed what I became:

A naked woman rides a naked man
and vamps, and moans, and both pretend to mount
the summit of desire, although in these

The old guitar with its broken neck, bowled over
by the cat, we said. Six tangled strings,

All night, a presence outside in the gardens and grounds,
dravm to the house by the stench of a secret.

These X rays prove what we probably knew, my lady,
my love. Namely, the heart is a muscle for pumping blood,

Because of your own natural sense of death,
death's stench in the fur, in the follicles, sweat glands,

As I pass the gates of Buckingham Palace
I'm exposed in a hundred Japanese cameras,
like a fossil, flash-frozen in Kodachrome.

 I descend on Holborn's escalator
watching my wives pass by on the opposite side,