Four Poems

A Calepin for Dr Brewer

Aretinian Syllables , sing
To our Bevy of sky-sipping, 'timid,
Gregarious' Candidates ('Lat. Candidatus, clothed
In white'). Not for donkey's years have we dreamed
Of Evans's Supper Rooms, where the air blushed blue,
Refurbished, and our Familiar of Assisi,
Home from the Glubbdubdrib Hock-shop,
Poorer than Irus, back in his Portiuncula.
Jubilee Juggins, skint, squeezes a glad concertina
Again on the swaying Knifeboard,
And they creep, the little draped Larvae, as ever,
Who have no Monument,
And long for New Learning, the sun on the olive-skin,
Not the stone in the Olla Podrida.
Gather them in a Pavan
...