Today, to the doctor....

....who was so young
he was the opposite of death
(which I, who is statistically much closer, take as a good omen).

Then to my Sister's, to mend her fence,
where I thought of Tom Sawyer and was well fed. Hurrah.

From there to Edinburgh, where Colin and I talked about glazes,

and thence to the Caley Sample Rooms
where I stumbled, staggered through poems
between Andy's great bands, great music.

Thank God these days they are generally kind
(some heckling at worst) to Poets.
And don't drag them outside and hang them
for poor performance.

" I've been sick. A cold, a bad cold," I'd scream.

But no use.