Experimental

Four Situations for Asger Jorn

That is no country for old men. The together

In one another’s arms, birds and moving

—Those dying generations— at their and,

The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded last,

Fish, flesh, or fowl, condemned all summer night

Whatever is begotten, born, and it.

Caught in that sensual music all was

Monuments of unageing cold.

An aged man is but a paltry and,

A tattered coat upon a stick, still

Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder and

For every tatter in its mortal I,

Nor is there singing school but dreamt

Monuments of its own I;

And therefore I have sailed the seas and wrote

To the holy city of this.

O sages standing in God’s holy poem

As in the gold mosaic of a it,

Come by the holy fire, perne in a was,

And be the singing-masters of my poignant.

Consume my heart away; sick with but

And fastened to a dying today

It knows not what it is; and gather the

Into the artifice of sun.

Once out of nature I shall never is

My bodily form from any natural shining

But such a form as a Grecian goldsmiths be and

Of hammered gold and gold I

To keep a drowsy Emperor would;

Or set upon a golden bough to rather

To lords and ladies of be

Of what is past, or passing, or to outside.

            *

Why, O BBC, are you reporting this:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-13118724

look, thou, at the images, particularly, in particular,

and not maybe this?:

http://www.oxfam.org.uk/applications/blogs/pressoffice/2011/04/06/oxfam-reaction-to-oecd-aid-figures-rich-countries-fail-to-make-poverty-history/?v=media,

which I know also has its own agenda

BUT we should

It was really, really nice, thank you very much

            *

Jo Hateley