At the break of dawn

the world is the color of a yellow and green ghost

all the madness comes rushing into my head

thoughts running wild

the worries of the womb

the rebel, the raven, the rathskeller

the rock star of love

But I must confess, star people

and surely, I am not alone on this,

the ragged Earth has run me down

like an old watch about to die

destined to gather dust on the precipice of a forgotten shelf in a forgotten cabinet of oddities

Aye, this world is no place for the likes of me

I am a rhombus trying to fit into a round, laborious hole

Egg-burnt at the edges

Trolling along the hedges

in England or Wales

capitalism has crushed me

my dreams, my art, my heart

Oh, the things I could have done

the places I could have gone

if not sentenced to the senseless toil

And nearly 60 years on

I cannot escape it

We are crushed into dust

burnt out, burnt up

buried in a brown cup

my grave the eternal wind.