it’s like believing the gangster lords
and their sister
– female as a volcano –
will break the race
their hounds will win the catford dogs
and i’m there cheering
– the crowd cheers –
and i sing – we sing –
the words of the running dog song
i feel raised like the buddha
to a purity of judgement
i am to decide the race
i naked before a thousand opinions
will pronounce
i have seen great denials met
a fox giving up eggs
a farm of tree and engine giving up monotony
a clarion reader giving up cowardice
so i will make
all those chaotic opinions
all those contradictory bets
all that violent self assertion
wilt
and there she stands
like a city on fire
promising ecstasy like a fruit promising juice
as naked as a tree in her leaves of spring
and though england may race like fools for gold
and though lord pisswater may promote his fright gestalt
and though i may burn such a squalid lust
i will not pursue
i would be foolish
li po led me to this poem