Tramps are mad
And truth is mad
and so are trees and trunks and tracks
The horror maps have played us true
The horror moon that slits the clouds
The gun
The goon
The burly sacks
The purple waistcoats of the natter jacks
Have done their bit as you can see
To prise madness from our sanity.
James Fenton
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário