Gerund One: Desperandum Nil
And so it was below
to early evening telly
and braindeath,
the curtains are drawn,
the room ill lit
by an old standard lamp:
grey ochre and stale air.
Wild Arabia, Wild China, Wild West Wind…
Pain, Pus, and Poison.
Appetite lost.
Nearly out of smokes.
A bag of ready salted does.
I hang on watching people talking about art:
what’s on, what’s good, what’s what,
and lay down my sword
Til tomorrow
Grimbeau 