I think I must have written this poem some time in the early 1990s. I have absolutely no idea what it’s about but I really like the concluding couplet, for some reason (and in fact I think I’ve even re-used it in other poems over the years as well).
desmond rejects the setting out of arguments he is neither analytical or lateral he dips his hand into a pool of water & it is cold just a moment ago it was dry it was also in my pocket my button remains there my belt keeps my trousers up desmond's house falls on him blue-green drops there’s the sound at last of bombers falling in the grass will they ever retrieve the sky? he kills a mosquito & stares at himself there is no need to be concerned a wheel churns in the gravel & disrupts somebody’s feet screwing neatly into the sky desmond follows all of this eagerly desmond forgets the earth the ivy wastes hold yesterday’s rain & crawl like a bereaved remainder
