Learning Places

The universities had become apolitical
A mirror of the apolitical society
Into which they were being moulded

To meet the master plan
They had needed to build very quickly
The focus then, on concrete, on facility

Not on theory or faculty
The new teacher’s contracts took
The lecturers pay below the minimum wage

That is if they were at all to engage
In the recommended, expected...

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Tied Ties

O Joe, what are you doing
Joe could imagine his mother’s voice
This girl is way outside your territory
You are well and truly hooked
Way over, way above your limitations

But Joe could still smell the musk of love
Enraptured, besotted
He was outside of that place
We call common sense
He was on the run

Caught full on
He could still see her eyes...

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Conviction

Who would believe him
More to the point
Would he want anyone
Or everyone to know

What would he now become
Who could tell him
Of this thing called love
Where could he go

Where would he go
To feel this way forever
This way where she had gone...

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She’s Leaving Home

Joe’s previous evening
Had been a stupendous
And tremulous occasion
Joe thought he was not the first
But that did not matter

For what Joe had learnt
In such a short
Yet delirious space of time
Would last him
For far more than this lifetime

She had left
Before the morning light
Without a sound
Without a goodbye
But she had left Joe her legacy

And on the coffee table
She had left something else
Joe did not notice...

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Art It Is

Was it Rembrandt
Vermeer, or de Bray
Where the cloth always appeared
Softly folded, lapped as layers
Of skin-like fatty tissue

If it had been the surrealism of Dali
You would see the distorted shape
Take on another reality
But here, in Joe’s room
The clay pots hang with a purpose

Without of decoration, simply perforated
Perforated for the air to move
For the testicles to breathe
His emblem of the love...

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