Snow,

you’re stunned – as Adam must have been –with the miracle of birth;They come as miniature perfection –who reads the small-print warning clause?‘These goods come without a life-time guarantee…’But you don’t pause to dream their own world for them –except to count, in wonder, fingers, toes;they come as answer to your whole life up to…

and the last breath of the dyingtogether make up the divine Name..in the meantime…remember, and listen..sages of the west say,birds fly, fishes swim, and man prays..remember what it wasyou should be praying for;listen for the answer…maybe a sage will pass tomorrow;maybe you’ll be at the window.Sages like questions;never enough.

so now I’mone inch talland spread all over the roadI should’ve takenthe road not taken

what may I give to you,ask of me what you mayI said to My Beloved,O my dearest one,give me whatevermay bring You closer to mebring me closer to YouMy Beloved saidTell me O my dearest onethat I may give you thatwhich brings Me closer to youI said to My BelovedSend me pain and sufferingfor when…

‘But who is he? Oh.. it’s a she-poet Laureate…?so (because I don’t read poetry, of course..)is that something I should shout hooray at?or have committees once again, backed the wrong horse? ’Well, she says she’s not ‘going to writefor Edward and Sophie’…she’s Sapphic and butch, and calledCarol Ann Duffyand you can guess, from what she…

but not so much in wordsrather, take a walk with you,say, this is a street I know well,may we walk together?not to influence or be insistent,but rather, see this, and this, solet’s pause a while here,perhaps just for a comma, or a space, orthe setting out upon the page,a walk together,a poem as a guiding…