What rough beast…
Jon Tipple in ‘The Granta’
all randy laughter, Eraserhead hair,
fingering shrapnel from the till,
collaring a chilled draught Guinness.
Love’s bitter mystery…
The trace of down
on an arm can do it. T-bone, fillet, rump.
‘Green leaf or mixed, dressing for the salad, sir ?’
Grant me an old man’s frenzy.
What else have I to spur me into song ?
Ah, there, across
the mill pond towards the new Pizzeria,
those punters with the pole playing silly buggers
right next to that swan.