1 A poem is a little thing not quite as cyclones Antillean as typhoons in the China Sea an earthquake on Formosa shaking A flooding forth of the Yiang Tse Kiang drowns you and a million others in one fell stroke wham it doesn't even matter that a poem's a little thing One's entertained here in our little village One's come to establish a new school One's come to elect a new mayor and to change the market day One will be at the world's centre one now finds near the river an horizon-eating ocean A poem is a little thing 2 Adieu earth so round adieu trees chartreuse I go into the tomb make greeting in verse -- the poets all around may sabotage their verse I turn off the calbombe then I sip from my glass 3 Well placed so choosey the words which make up poetry of words it's enough to love them to compose a poem we know not always what they say when is born poetry we must then discover the theme to give title to the poem but other times we laugh we weep while we're writing the poetry it's always got extreme things then a poem 4 Our names our words our grass as dry vocabulary which a cow licks drinking in the prairie our air our behemoths our heaths thick light or heavy but chartreuse as the poster on the town hall greys verily which always clouds a hatred of death and which sunlight within the gnomon's nostrils its nature in the tall cress instills across what races coursing panting zebras the speech of wings upon the legs of a bird always already by the red Baptised to figure there below in the dictionary Our names our words and too our weeds 5 Good God good God I have begrudged to compose a little poem Here it is here's one which passes Little by little come so I can string you still upon the necklace wire there with my other poems come so I can entomb you inside the tablet of my completed works come so I can en-paper you so I'c'n en-rhyme so I'c'n en-rhythm so I'c'n en-lyre and'c'n en-Pegasus and I'c'n en-verse and I'c'n en-prose Dammit It got the fuck out'ere 6 The black inkwell in the moonlight The black inkwell in the moonlight There in the moonlight a black inkwell There in the moonlight a black inkwell Lent out to the poor poet its full pen Lent out to the poor poet its full pen Paying a small price as night falls There in the moonlight a black inkwell Upon the bright white paper had coursed its pen The pen had coursed there little black lines fell A moon bright white an inkwell somber Are father and mother of this new birth A moon bright white an inkwell somber 7 Whenever poets feel ennui they then suc- Cede in lifting their pen and writing a po- Em to understand the conditions which do bo- Red them a little sometimes in poetry po- Etry 8 Where'm'I to register my poems me who wishes... poor of paper poor of pen plump with poems here I am facing nothing nothing at all nothingness ah that I feel metaphysically no fire nor candle for the poetry 9 Tonight what if I write a poem for posterity huh? oh damn 's a good idea I feel sure that I'll go nigh and to the posterity I'll talk shit and more shit and more more shit wittily trick right the posterity which will expect this poem aight