MOMENTS OF PANIC AND REALIZATION

I
Bushes galloping to the top of a hill:
some have already arrived and are waiting
for a ride on a cloud.
If you hop on a cloud you can ride to France,
and join the foreign bushes in a dance.

II
Houses are all built out of bricks in December
by shading in crossword squares
with a damp pencil. The streets are paved with muffins
and bits of something.

III
The Sun wishes to speak.
Silence! The Sun wishes to speak.
Silence!
Now he has gone behind a cloud, grumbling.

IV
Towards the ending of the way,
where the footprints thin out
and even the thick-skinned become uncertain,
you can just hear a beating in the air.

V
Failing to ride the stars,
losing the will to fly,
crash from on high to Earth,
screaming with lightning.

VI
There will be a row
such as you never heard
when all the hounds break in
to bay at this little mouse.

VII
By offsetting the centres,
by staggering the brush-marks,
one can balance blocks of flats
on one another, higher than the clouds.

