2.

Far too late we’re already

redeemed, shale hewn of 

shrieks of whales and fish-stink

I’m here for the Cretaceous Seaway:

Magyars scared of grass, of green

mincing dwellers we are graduated

unwitting of ground’s preparation

what light means one never knows

lost in heaven looking at the sea

it isn’t there; the rocks laugh and laugh

all the wrongness of our wide night

poetry got us banned from seven kingdoms 

Thomas says, one day the lions forgot my name

I turned on the lights but the tables were still there.