Standing under the fobbed
Impendent belly of Time
Tell me the truth, I said,
Teach me the way things go.
All the other lads there
Were itching to have a bash,
But I thought wanting unfair:
It and finding out clash.
 
So he patted my head, booming Boy,
There’s no green in your eye:
Sit here and watch the hail
Of occurence clobber life out
To a shape no one sees —
Dare you look at that straight?
Oh thank you, I said, Oh yes please,
And sat down to wait.
 
Half life is over now,
And I meet full face on dark mornings
The bestial visor, bent in
By the blows of what happened to happen.
What does it prove? Sod all.
In this way I spent youth,
Tracing the trite untransferable
Truss—advertisement, truth.

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