Poem 468
The problem of originality again … nothing against the London borough but where better to lead a hackneyed life …
( trammelled is a great word … )
Death Comes To Hackney
O god O god O god screamed the man in the street get these quote marks away from my heart death parenthesised him with two crooked fingers old lines rattled out of his pockets he died as he lived on the trammelled pavement racking his brains for something original