Piccadilly Poem

1
Piccadilly
Vast overflowing abundances of poemness
LEWIS'S
... THE NATIONAL BANK
A bus 83a O God in my mind screaming
dragged beneath the wheels
Horatory
Minatory
Messianic
the ghost of Guillaume Apollinaire
watches from glass and concrete perspectives of bus stations.

2
DAFFODILS ARE NOT REAL!

3
Sitting in a city square in the April sunshine
I see the first beachheads of the Martian invasion
Lapping over the rusticated walls.

4
7 cowboys stride into the city
Hitch their horses to a bus terminal
Sun on their shirts sweat on their faces sust caking their jeans
Gun resting easily on hip. 

5
NIGHT the time of the terrible neon wheel.

6
The smell of grass being mowed in the square;
I sit in a café in Piccadilly
And think of Yves Tanguy
Alone in the crowded dugout eating sandwiches full of spiders.

from Selected and Unpublished, Poems 1965-2000. Published by Liverpool University Press 2007.