Leeds welcomes you in flowers
Garlanding the white stuccoed tower
Of City Station: red on green
As poetrys demon seizes me,
Upending all ordures of order.
Haworth Moor, Haworth Moor
Echoes and re-echoes under the Dark Arches
Where the Aire gurgles and swirls
In eddies of Jack the Ripper, cloud-hopping
Jumping Jack Flash but Jacks the lad Im not
My adolescent timidity gelding
My desire for the welcoming heavy breasts
And garlanded yielding vaginas.
