I should like to abandon myself
upon a craggy rock; take stock
of artificial life and light, then darken
my parameters, for a year or so.
Scan harsh seas, at breakfast, lunch
and tea, adjust my Souwester, yellow
in its circumstance, as yellow as can be.
I’d take quite seriously the lone man’s
approach to being. Maybe keep a dog
to polish off corned beef hash, a parrot
to laugh with, or at. Perhaps I’d go mad
with the responsibility of mezzanine flooring,
gearless pedestal turnings and of photo electric
cells sensing the daylight arriving, perhaps!
I’d leave just once that year, to collect fuel
from gnarled-fingered-fishermen, wise to
the capacity of break tanks and the like.
More to the point I’d maybe save some lives,
whilst reading endlessly.