Quizzical stranger,
I live here in the corner of your eye
Where you throw your dead.
Catch me in a slanting summer ray,
In an icicle’s dark glint.
People I have known, no longer around,
Places visited, places where I have slept,
And scowled, and laughed, and looked at my watch-
What does it mean any more?
My country, my asylum!
Come, show me to my cell.
Irony hammers bent old nails
Into the condemned man’s hands.
The road so narrow,potholes all over;
Everything to question,nothing to know.
Look there: a gallows at the junction.
Hats off to Mister Crow!
What’s this? A world on the retina,
Inverted. Can you-do you want to-
Turn it the right way up?
My world, my bubble, lovingly maintained,
All mine, this petty hell.
You find me a wanton destroyer,
Quite banal.
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