guillemots and herring gulls

call me from the street to play
like you used to yesterday
I have locked myself away
nothing new to say today
find me in the sitting room
sitting in the sitting room
used to be a pretty room
full of junk and old heirlooms
growing old is not worth spit
nothing works the way it did
especially the pills they give
awfully bitter pills they give
guillemots and herring gulls
have a lot more fun than us
they can peck and steal and cuss
no one ever makes a fuss
perhaps you’d only fly away
if I brought some treat your way
pretty bird don’t fly away
please don’t  ever go away
call me from the street to play
like you used to yesterday
pretty bird don’t fly away
don’t you fly away

The Man Who Loved Islands

There once was a man,
a man who loved islands,
a man who rejected
the company of all.
Each island was smaller
than the island before
till nothing remained
but a rock with no shore.

Lonely the island
without a quay,
an island in you,
an island in me.
Words for a pillow
and lines for a sea,
I’m just an old man
who loves islands.

[after a story by D.H. Lawrence]