leonard wrote in medieval rhyme, a scrivener,
fond of the waltz, too.
i shall learn to. and wear a river’s disguise
shall we not see thee dancing?
i shall walk in the way and you may call us dancing
meandering thoughts, consequences, a pas de deux
many may see us dance, few will hear the music
. in and out of season.
i have no manners, i will not apologise
for being. nor say sorry for what you did.
i will not make excuses and reasons for
your action nor what i did in repair. i am
no gentleman, certainly neither are you.
there is no sincere apology for my being.
saw him twice, dying maybe dead at the walker,the larger pictures.
he looked poorly, very grey, his friends around looking concerned.
there was not much blood though considering all the wounded and dead
i like the paintings, very lively with not much life, mostly war and death.
criticise modern art for being gloomy, need to visit the walker full of death
he knows stuff, facts,and figures
while i am astounded.the sun comes
out by the drawers. open they show
me birds and insects. did you know
they cross their fragile legs and tie
with cotton threads.
did you know that we are the only ones
who do not eat insects and that there
are more species of beetles than any
other creature. having lost the sexton