The Beast Between the Marble and the Heap, Or: The Mammoth    Between the marble wall of City Hall   and the slow‑rotting heap   of broken crockery and dusty old books —   the beast stirred.     To think it once tore open the earth   with its tusks,   raising mountains,   or guarding the spirits of the underworld.     Now its fur rotted to a brittle husk —   the mammoth   preserved without reason —   the mammoth.     Among the first of God’s works,   it had been among us from

Before the Clocks Struck Three (Mr. Eliot Had an Apparition in Salford and It Was Very Foggy)   Salford is the rainiest place, getting   Inside my shoes, wetting   Tired feet in undarned socks.     Yesterday, before the clocks   Struck three, three old horses   Munched wet grass   Among the relics   Of Clifton’s Wet Earth Colliery:   Which on reflection,   Were beautiful objects   Of rust, time and toil.     Fog swirls, curls   Around the clock tower,   The quays, the trees —

All the World Was Broken: An Ecopoem   On weightless air, the cocksure ravens flew.   Wild sheep chewed grass; deer   And bison chewed too.   On a slanted hillside white mountain goats   Enjoyed a lofty view.   In forests, eucalypti, fresh-minted, grew.   And fire-green firs with purple cones,   Did too.   For the silver-studded starfish there were oceans   Wet with green and blue –   And oceans for the whale and dolphin too.     On blackest soil, the man called Adam grew   H

Cometh the Lion    Cometh the Lion, cometh the hour.   On his head is my name; on his back is my power.   The time is narrow, and the world is wide   And the Lion comes now with a spear in his side.     Look how he bleeds; his flesh is a prize   For the cross-hearted hunter with blood in his eyes   (Brimming red in the heat of the noon)   And vowing to return by the light of the moon.     ‘Come follow me,’ the Lion commands,   ‘Or the hunter will come and hack off your hands.

Relics Yesterday, before the snow, three old horses munched wet grass as I walked through the relics of an abandoned colliery, which on reflection, were beautiful objects of time and rust.