DISASTER
MAN
You could
almost wish that it was so:
merely that
fragile coherence
with which
the disintegration
of the
world is prevented
You shuffle
cautiously around in it
one false
step and you’ll always be
known as disaster man
Once I
crept right out to the edge
over which
a waterfall plunged
into the
valley, curious about what
was to be
seen there: I saw
a bolt plus
nut a stone sticking
out that
seemed to be holding
it all in
place, as if it was the hand
of God, or
Bob the Builder
I came down
again, elated,
as if I
suddenly had seen the light
didn’t
realise how I brushed cobwebs
aside, left
behind a trail of
destruction,
no matter how carefully
I descended
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