Would you like to go to bed? Can you be more precise?
Would you like some lamb? For what?
What do you eat for breakfast? Mind your own business That’s not very nice. Exactly.
Is it time to get up? No, come down
Shall we pray? I think it’s too late
Goodness, it’s 11 am Yes, we have that every day here
So from now on, we can’t hug the postman Unless he’s in a Bubble
Shall we call a cab? Why can’t we ring? I forgot the bell.I gave it to the cat. Well, get it back Actually it was a tiger I don’t believe that Wait till you get home Why?~ He’s on the bed with the bell We may have to get the police Do you really think the police will help? He can eat them first while we run away Let’s sleep rough. OK in a holly tree Or a bed of roses
I saw a black shape at the door Probably your shadow. It followed me in Next time, go out.
Will it let me?
Just walk through it.
When the doctor smiled at me I saw a gold fuzzy cloud That means you don’t need LSD No,I need a thicker skin and new glasses
I ran back and shook hands with the Consultant I hope he wasn’t doing surgery. He was gazing pensively at me then declared You’re weird! Is that ethical? It depends on what kind of weirdness it is.
He sent me for X rays ,then wept Was that before or after he saw them? He cried onto my bare knees Is that ethical? Well, no point crying onto an X ray is there? Is it ethical? Well, it won’t heal them. How unethical!
Why can’t they insert new cartilege?
A pity my knee is not a gun
You are weird.Cartridge!
Alfred,cat ,both black and white Do not be afraid Alfred dearest, that was News Before the Trump arrived Alfred how I miss you now I hope you’re still alive
You look quite puzzled or afraid
I’m sorry I was sad
In this world of madness now
We search for tidings glad
If you have another home
I don’t mind now you’re gone
I hope you find a warm bed place
And sleep until you’re done
In calculus we find mysterious forms Minute numbers disappear,return Zero is not nothing, but a cloud Of motes that dance in sun or disappear Fuzzy logic too has mystery The truth says nothing is mere black or white Just more or less and these may overlap Dissolving into clouds upon a map Numbers have no feelings but make form I once saw them moving, patterned, in my dreams Golden letters telling me the way The truth is often very hard to see Like those tiny half alive mind dots Flying through our minds like dust flies in the sun
It reminds me of an East Anglian landscape. This garden’s flat planes of grass give the illusion Of greater distance,the eye travels down them To the trees rising at the end. On this scene my mind superimposes Other ideas of summer days in hot places In flat fields stretching on either Side down to the sea. My eye enjoys the shape,the flatness The form,a symbol for so many other gardens And summer journeys on unknown lanes Across new landscapes ,delighting in them,
In the space extending,and the trees A gentle contradiction to the horizontal meadows. In summer in recent years,
what I remember Is the sun across these long,flat shapes. Looking at this small garden, I remember So many things,
my eye sees through What is here,to far beyond What has passed and what is to come All contained here.