(for Cyril Connolly)The piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.
Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Agents of the Fisc
Absconding tax-defaulters
The sewers of provincial towns.
Private rites of magic
The temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati
An imaginary friend.
Cerebrotonic Cato
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound
Mutiny for food and pay.
Caesar's double-bed is
As an unimportant
Writes I DO
OT
KE MY
On a pink official form.
Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.
Altogether elsewhere,
Herds of reindeer move
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.
