I’m a dog −
Trade sin on a contraflow or
rarer ebb.
…
A yogi,
Not one yen I possessed.
Dog sore was I.
…
Nose? Yes.
Leg? Nada.
Hit-eyed.
A fine sir…
A silly ram
Alive on tubes.
…
A vagabond, ‘n’ all a-bony.
No ball and no bag,
A vase, but no ‘evil amaryllis’ arisen.
…
I fade.
…
Yet…
I had angel’s eye.
Son, I saw Eros – Goddesses!
So pine ye not.
…
On I go.
Yabberer
Arrow
Ol’ fart –
No canonised art-god am I.
…
…
***
Notes and comments
The voice of this poem is a knackered old tramp, missing various bits of his anatomy, speaking on his hospital deathbed (alive on tubes) to his son.
…
Why bother with the palindrome form at all, other than as an intellectual challenge? I am intrigued by the possibility of a text containing its opposite, or turning on itself so that the second half somehow defies or contradicts the first, even though the actual letters are the same. I think this poem achieves this with the change of mood in the penultimate stanza (Yet…/ I had angel’s eyes). Despite his decreptitude he does not regret his life; he has seen remarkable things, slept with beautiful women…
