like a citadel outside the walls of Fez an outpost   a new name, if you like a borrowed name leftover fighters not a mere patchwork learned, pious herds seized among soldiers later the telephone lines so called Queen Hill not men there was a citadel

an extended walk the waning day strikingly snub-nosed it was wanderlust by his ego   the writer’s mother bearing stamps his Frederic the Great more infinity in proud shame the outcast was cast out moral and immoral   raggle-taggle rustics as vacant pearls the size of cherries shrunken almost   German children with French nurses(…)

he would get cold orange peal on the grey stones oranges and tangerines two tangerines open veldt six slept in front room Irene’s sharp tongue something between her teeth Gerbrand came home under the waterfall was a pool spat on her fingertips not papa on the wireless all weekend it wasn’t his bigness or his(…)

most bored man cards in seven lines the thing without a name reading the cricket scores the same without you he leave she   a little too late   give the woman lick like wild

the lark temporarily forgotten no idea why not meant baggy things inconvenient table of figures once more veiled from view was deplorably honest a boy is a man

clumps of hardy chestnuts twenty heavy hammers looking busy a better bargain   ‘I like shade’   even the workhouse for fear of the steak

think of us a doctor too they prefer Brazil by benevolent black women so dirty, the water   on a shelf with a mop and bucket we pay them   toward the black sky her sad face from foot to foot had to sit with the kids preened, spiky grass   at the mouth of(…)